Birthday Boys 5th in the FS Series
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: Gil and Nick have birthdays coming up.Sara and Carrie are making big plans for their guys. Greg gets a surprise visitor and Tawny is thrilled. GS,GrOC,NOC primarily. Complete
1. Default Chapter

**Note:** Birthday Boys is the 5th installment in the Feasiblity Study series (orginally FS chapters 55-62). It picks up where Second Chances left off.

* * *

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 1"**

**August 16, 2005 (Day 116)  
****The Grissom's  
****7:19 a.m. **

With mounting trepidation, Gil entered his home through the garage door and slowly made his way to the bedroom, aka The Reproduction Room. "Honey, I'm home," He called out upon arriving, expecting to find his wife lying in wait.

"I'm in the bathroom testing!" She replied in a stronger voice than she had in days. "One minute to go."

"You sound a little better, Sara." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gil lowered his head and prayed that baby making love would not be mandated this morning. After a plethora of great loving Wednesday thru Saturday of last week, followed by Sunday's disaster turned last minute success and yesterday's all too lengthy and lackluster effort, he was more than ready for a day off.

"I'm still dragging and my breathing is heavy but I feel much better than yesterday!" Smiling, she emerged from the bathroom wearing her lavender flannel pajamas. "Okay, results are in."

"Well?" He tensed, hoping he wouldn't be ordered to drop his drawers.

"I'm back to low fertility." Wheezing, she announced, "We're done for the month."

"Oh thank god," He rejoiced while crashing against the comforter.

"Awww…are you suffering from a little post traumatic _stud_ disorder?" She snickered while walking over to the bed, "Don't worry, I've taken what I needed and you're of no use to me now. If we were successful, we may _never_ have to do it again."

"Well, let's not get carried away," Chuckling, he insisted, "But I will say, whatever you're planning for my birthday tomorrow…leave out love making."

Sliding next to him, she propped up on her elbow. "I promise, nothing sexy on your birthday. You're very safe…Boom Boom is on hiatus and I haven't purchased any lusty lingerie. And even though it's summer, I plan on wearing a turtleneck tomorrow so I don't send any vibes." Kissing his cheek she informed him, "Actually, I have a _very _innocent day planned. Plus your dad will be here for part of it so…"

"Thank you," He sighed while tucking her hair behind her ear. "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd rather have dinner with my father than sleep with you."

"I'm making something very special for dinner," She hinted.

"Are you sure you're up to cooking?" He sweetly asked while feeling her forehead. "Your fever just broke last night. You're still weak."

"I'll be fine. I even plan on going to work tomorrow for half a day." Swatting his hand away she scoffed, "You're just afraid I'll chop the vegetables in the wrong shape. Don't worry, Anal Chef, it won't matter, because I'll be baking the veggies and they'll lose their shape when they go soft."

Eyeing her with feigned contempt, he groaned, "Did you have to bring up that phrase in bed?"

"Sorry." She smiled an apology. "Come on…" Grabbing his hand she said, "I'll make you a healthy breakfast before you leave for your therapy appointment with Dr. Myers. You'll need your strength."

Taking her up on her offer he climbed out of bed. "Wow…I'm in such a good place before my birthday this year…I'm happily married, going to therapy twice a week to sort out my head, and have developed a temporary aversion to sex from being forced to have too much of it."

"Aww, Honey," She started laughing. "You've come so far."

"Absolutely." Throwing his arm around her shoulder he grinned, "Last year I was a lonely head case forced to take matters into my own hands."

"Kind of daunting." She sighed, "I mean, how can you top things for your fiftieth next year?"

Stopping in the hall, he caught her eye and shared his wish. "How about this…just celebrated my first wedding anniversary after successfully completing therapy, and trying to remember what sex is like because we're too exhausted from taking care of a baby to want to have any?"

Lighting up the darkened hallway with her smile, she nodded. "That'll work."

**Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes' Office  
****8:14 a.m.**

With his eyes still fixated on the case file he was reviewing, Nick answered his cell phone, "Stokes."

"Blake."

Easing back against his chair he smiled. "Time for another birthday surprise hint?"

"Uh huh."

Mirroring his stealthy behavior when he tried to surprise her with a trip to Paris, Carrie had been teasing him regarding special birthday plans. "Should I bring my bathing suit?" He jokingly asked like she had back then.

"That will be highly unnecessary." In a sneaky tone, she gave her clue, "We'll be taking a trip."

"Hmm…" Rocking his chair, he considered the new information. "You said we're celebrating starting Wednesday night and I only have Thursday off so we can't go too far."

"That's all you're going to get from me. Have a nice day nailing bad guys, Honey. I'm at the courthouse waiting to send one to prison…sexual assault with a minor…I'm chomping at the bit."

Proudly, he replied, "I know you'll kick ass, Baby. I'm working a case right now I'd love to see you prosecute."

"Quite a one-two punch, you and I."

"The perfect team in _every _way." Grateful to be celebrating his birthday this year with the woman of his dreams, he sighed, "Sweetie, I appreciate you going to some trouble to make things special, but you could take me out for a hotdog to celebrate and I'd be thrilled."

"Duly noted."

**Dr. Myers' Office  
****9:06 a.m. **

Doing the same dance of uncertainty that he did at his first appointment, Gil stood leaning against the doctor's massive book shelves. "I thought I would find this easier the second time."

"Some people do, others don't," Dr. Myers assured from her chair in the center of the room. "There's no right or wrong, Gil." Believing he needed a jump start, she inquired, "You said you just got back from Tahoe. How was your vacation?"

"Perfect," He declared while returning a book to the shelf. "First vacation I've taken since coming to Vegas…first ever with a partner. It was nice getting out of town and relaxing with Sara. Even the littlest thing like lying in a hammock reading together felt like heaven. We uh…enjoyed it so much we ended up purchasing the cabin."

"So now, as I suggested, you have a place to go and decompress."

"Yes." He nodded.

"Excellent."

"Hopefully things at work won't be crazy so we'll be able to go."

Concerned by his statement, she asked, "When you returned to the lab was everything fine? Because in our last session, you cited the reason you were unable to take vacations was your required presence at the lab."

"Yes, the lab was just fine without me," He admitted while slowly crossing the room. "Much to my ego's surprise. Then again, I suppose I always knew it would be and used that as an excuse not to take a vacation."

Glad to see he was leaving his safety zone, she continued the line of questioning. "Why didn't you want to take a vacation?"

Standing behind an empty chair, Gil gripped the leather back. "Because I didn't have anyone to take one with and I didn't want to go alone. I was already alone at home, I didn't need to go somewhere else and prove I could do it on the road."

"You said this was your first vacation since coming to Vegas and your first with a partner. Did you take vacations alone when you were living in California?"

"No." Walking around the chair, he took a seat. "Until I started college I took trips every summer with my mother."

"Did you enjoy them?"

"They were always very educational," He replied as he shifted to get comfortable.

"How were they educational?" She probed, wondering if there was a meaning beyond the literal interpretation.

Clearing his throat, he expounded on his answer. "We always visited places with quality museums and important historical landmarks. As I mentioned in our last session, my mother was artistic and well read. She enjoyed sharing her passion for art with me and wanted to show me the places mentioned in some of the novels I'd read."

"You must have learned a great deal on these trips."

"I did. Looking back I certainly appreciate the opportunity. It was a very nice thing for my mother to do for me." He sensed the doctor was looking for more and since he saw another angle, he shared it. "The trips always taught me something else. Well, taught isn't the right word…reinforced is a better choice. The trips reinforced the fact that my family was broken. You know how those tourist places are…I'd see families…fathers with sons, wives with husbands. I'd see them together, full of life, and be reminded of what **I** was missing…what my mother was missing."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Angry," He answered without hesitation. "I'd start thinking, where's _my_ _dad_ right now? Is he on vacation with his new family? The family he _chose_ to become a part of when he left me behind." His eyes shifted downward. "I'd see a father lift his son to help him see and think…is my dad out there somewhere helping his new son while I'm struggling to see things on my own…"

When her patient fell silent, Dr. Myers prompted, "How is the view now that you've spoken with your father?"

Glancing up, he replied, "I was right. He was out there taking vacations with his new family…his new son. But now, those memories are as empty for him as the lack of vacations with a father was for me." Rubbing his sweaty palms over the knees of his black trousers, he explained, "His second marriage didn't work out and the woman's kids ended up loathing him. You know…he poured on the stepfather love in the beginning, but his old habits took over and he was never around for them. They resented him for it and moved on. Although the divorce was amicable, they never kept in touch once all was said and done. He doesn't even know where they are today."

"But he knew where you were."

"Yes, I guess that should make me feel special. He kept tabs on me my whole life…_from afar_." He shrugged. "But he's here now and apparently determined to stick around." Lifting his hand in a stop motion, he released a nervous chuckle. "I know…I know…how does that make me feel?"

Disarming him with a smile, the doctor said, "Considering your intelligence and level of education, I expected you to be a fast learner, Gil."

"It helps having a coach at home too." Breathing deep, he settled back against the cushy chair. "Okay…how does it make me _feel _to have my father back in my life?" He searched for an answer. "Um…"

"Don't formulate a response, say whatever comes to mind."

"Vulnerable." Choking on the aftereffects of stating his feeling out loud, he rambled, "I mean…it's like I said in reference to his new family…in the beginning he poured on the love, but then his old habits took over and he was never around. What if I'm just a temporary fascination? What if this is all a game to him? What if he pulls me back in and then disappears again when he finds something else that interests him? He's the same old dog…what are the odds he's learned a new trick?"

"Do you believe people are incapable of changing, Gil?" Smiling once more she asked, "Tell me…have you made any significant changes in your life over the past year?"

Looking a realization in the eye, he cracked a smile. "As a matter of fact I have."

**The Grissoms'  
****10:31 a.m. **

Anxious that she hadn't heard from Greg yet this morning, Sara headed to the kitchen and swiped the cordless phone from its cradle. Rapidly, she punched in the numbers for his cell and paced the room hoping he'd answer and have good news.

"Sorry, Sara…I still don't have anything frabjous to report."

Disappointed, she leaned against the counter. "That's okay, I really appreciate you trying." Ever since they spoke yesterday morning and Greg's tease with the word frabjous led to a revealing conversation, Sara was hell bent on getting her wish fulfilled in time for Gil's birthday.

"But I'm feeling optimistic," Greg stated. "Because I've enlisted help."

"Who?" Her brows knitted. "I told you I didn't want anyone else to know because it's so personal and…"

"No one from the lab," He quickly assured her. "My mom. And trust me…she can keep a secret. My dad doesn't know about Tawny yet."

"You didn't have to bother her with…"

"Are you kidding?" He chuckled. "First of all it's summer break and she's always looking for a project. Second, she loves the idea because she can personally relate. I swear she shed a few tears when I was telling her. Third, it's very convenient for her. Fourth, and most importantly, it gave us something else to talk about yesterday than me. Trust me…it's no problem, she's totally into it. I think she's more determined than you at this point."

Before Sara could discuss the matter any further she heard Gil coming in through the garage door. "He's home. Don't call here. I'll call you back when he's asleep. Thanks again, Greg and thank your mom for me! Bye!"

Still holding the phone in her hand, Sara greeted her husband in the hall. "I was just about to call and see where you were. How did it go? Are you doing okay?"

"It went very well." Handing her a small box tied with a pink cotton string, he sweetly said, "I stopped to pick up some brownies for you."

Touched by the gesture, she took the box and kissed his lips. "You remembered me telling you about the bakery by Dr. Myers office."

"You're not the only one with an excellent memory under this roof." Heading for the fridge, he whined, "I was squirming more in that bakery surrounded by all that decadent food than I was in therapy! Talk about self-sacrifice."

"It's your birthday tomorrow…you can cheat a little on your diet."

"No way." He turned around smiling. "I weighed myself earlier and I've already lost five pounds."

"That's great!" She beamed with excitement. "I'm really proud of you."

Cocking his head, he quipped, "Must be all the sex on demand."

"You should write a book and market it as a successful weight loss plan."

"Well…" Pulling his head out of the fridge with a bottle of water and an apple, he said, "It probably helped that I barely ate while having a nervous breakdown when you were gone. Since I really don't want to share _that part_ of the strategy with the world, I'll have to rely on my Entomology papers enlightening the public."

"Speaking of Entomology…" Sara sat on a barstool and relayed some fun news. "A certain budding Entomologist has requested a meeting with you tomorrow in honor of your birthday."

"Sean?" He guessed after swallowing a chunk of apple.

"Yes."

"That's awfully nice of him." Curious he asked, "How did he find out it was my birthday?"

Although she knew she replied, "I have no idea."

"I look forward to it." Gil glanced at the clock. "Okay, Flu Girl, you still need to take it easy. If you promise you won't try to harvest me for my seed, I'd love for you to join me in bed." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a DVD. "I rented a movie. I thought we could watch it before I go to sleep."

Elated with his idea she slid off the stool, snatched the movie out of his hand and read the title aloud, "Sense and Sensibility. I've read the book, but not seen the movie."

"Me too. But I like other movies Emma Thompson has been in so I thought it might be good." Knowing now that she was familiar with the story, he took her hand and smiled, "So what do you say? Would you like to join me, Miss Marianne?"

Embracing the analogy she whimsically replied, "I'd love to, Colonel."

**The Cheesecake Factory  
****11:04 a.m. **

Upon arriving, Catherine asked the hostess to seat her and Lindsay in Tawny's section and, after a five minute wait, they were shown to a booth in the back of the restaurant.

"Hey, Catherine!" Tawny excitedly exclaimed when she saw her mentor taking a seat. "This is a nice surprise. Did you ask for my section?"

"Of course."

Glancing over at the teen girl sitting across from Catherine she surmised, "And you must be Lindsay."

"Yeah, and I'm not as bad as my mom makes me sound."

Giggling, Tawny replied, "Your mom never said anything bad about you to me. As a matter of fact she went on and on about what a great student and softball player you were. Hearing about you made me feel better about having my own baby." She patted her stomach. "I'm pretty sure it's going to be a girl."

Knowing her daughter's curious mind, Catherine cringed.

"You're having a baby?" Lindsay, blessed with her mother's observant nature, quizzed. "Where's your wedding ring?"

"Uh…" Tawny cracked a nervous smile. "We aren't married yet."

Like mother like daughter, the use of the word 'yet' piqued Catherine's curiosity. "Yet? Did Sanders…"

"No!" Flustered, she backpedaled. "What I meant to say was, no, I'm not married."

"_Greg_ Sanders!" Lindsay exclaimed in disbelief. "_He's_ going to be a dad? He's a total goofball! Kids at school don't have hair as weird as he does."

"I like his hair," Tawny assured the cute teen.

Still reeling from the revelation, Lindsay gaped at the giddy waitress, "Didn't anyone ever teach the two of you about condoms and sexually transmitted disease?"

With pride overflowing, Catherine relaxed in her seat. "Lindsay, Honey, you can order anything you want and after lunch, I'm taking you shopping."

**The Grissoms'  
****11:49 a.m. **

Lying in bed, curled up against her husband's chest, Sara continued to enjoy the bittersweet movie. "Right now I can totally relate to Marianne waiting and waiting for a declaration from Willoughby…with you being Willoughby in this scenario. That statement Marianne made when asked if Willoughby explicitly said he loved her, _always implied but never declared_…" Poking her husband in the ribs, she said, "…been there, done that!"

Returning her jab, he teased, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was feeling dumbstruck old Brandon's pain when he walked in and found out about Marianne's attraction for the young daring Mr. Willoughby from a _third party_, with Hank being Willoughby in this scenario and Gerard being Sir John."

Chuckling, she declared, "Talk about great casting! Hank is the perfect Willoughby… a shallow two-timing bastard!"

Still in therapy mode, Grissom hit the pause button on the remote control. "Why do you think Colonel Brandon decided not to compete with Willoughby for Marianne's attention?"

"Because he was afraid he'd lose." Propping up, she stared deeply into her husband's eyes, while continuing her analysis. "So he convinced himself that Marianne would be happier with a man closer to her age, believing in the long run, she'd tire of an older, more cerebral man. Therefore, he stepped back and pined for her from afar…never confessing the depth of his feelings and never giving her the opportunity to know him and make a choice between suitors." With her fingertips, she traced the outline of her husband's parted lips. "Which was really a _very _poor decision on Brandon's part, because if Marianne had been privy to the passion burning deep within The Colonel…if she had been given the chance to taste the desire in his kiss…or to know the love in his heart…." Breaking into a delicious grin, she declared, "…it would have been no contest and Willoughby would have been riding his horse out of town before the end of the first act."

A second later, Sara felt the delicious crush of her husband's lips against hers and when Gil finally broke the kiss, he breathlessly asked, "Why the hell didn't I come home with this movie on Sunday!"

**The Cheesecake Factory  
****12:03 p.m.**

As Lindsay perused the cheesecake menu, Catherine grabbed her cell phone to check her home voice mail.

Noting the intrigue in her mother's eye, Lindsay warned, "Remember, Mom, you promised to take me shopping. I don't care if you find out half The Strip is covered in DBs, let the Dayshift handle it."

"I'm not going to bail on you," Catherine confidently replied, "I'm waiting to hear back from my doctor's office."

Putting down the menu, Lindsay asked with concern in her voice, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so," She sighed while picking up her wine glass.

"What!"

"OH!" Realizing she just terrified her daughter, Catherine reached out and took her hand. "I'm thinking about a little _cosmetic_ procedure, Sweetie. I'm not sick."

"Jesus!" Lindsay grabbed the menu. "You scared the crap out of me, Mom!"

Eager to bust her daughter, Catherine reminded her, "You really shouldn't take the lord's name in vain. Jake would be disappointed."

"That reminds me…you didn't tell me if I can join Youth Group at Jake's Dad's church? They're meeting tomorrow at 6:00."

"What's the name of it again?" Lifting her wine glass she sipped.

"Desert Springs Church, it's on Palm Tree over by the hospital. A nice part of town."

"What denomination is it? How do I know it's not a cult? What if they brainwash you?" Setting down her glass, she chortled, "Or worse…what if they point out the fact that your mother is a sinner and you decide you can't live with me?"

"I already know that Mom, and there's no way I'm moving out because we're getting a cool new house with an awesome pool and I'm going to have a room with my own bathroom suite!"

"Yeah, I bet Jesus never would have left home to spread the gospel if Joseph and Mary had given him his own bathroom suite."

"Mom!"

Trying not to laugh she apologized, "Sorry."

"How do know any of this religious stuff anyway? We've never gone to church."

"I used to go every Sunday as a kid." Lifting her glass, she finished its contents. "My mother was into making a good impression at church. So much so, that when her wayward daughter…that would be me…showed up looking to come back home at seventeen she thought it would be bad for appearances. While wearing a cross around her neck she shut the door in my face. Not very Christian of her, huh?"

"You never told me that before," Lindsay softly replied.

"You're almost fourteen," Catherine explained, "Since you're apparently old enough to share the importance of condoms and sexually transmitted diseases with wayward women…I thought you could handle that story." Sighing, she said, "Oh, Linds, I don't want my past to taint everything for you. How about this…I'll drive you to Youth Group tomorrow and if I don't get a weird brainwashing vibe, I'll let you stay. But if they're serving Kool Aid and asking you to check your brain at the door…it's back in the car."

Happy her mother was listening to her, she smiled. "Deal."

"Promise one thing though." She started to laugh.

"What?"

"When I walk through the doors of the church, if a lightning bolt strikes me in the ass, rendering me unconscious, promise me you'll pull me outside and call 911."

"Sure thing."

"Hey ladies," Tawny greeted as she bounded over, "ready for some cheesecake?"

Having made up her mind, Lindsay ordered, "Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookie Dough with two forks."

"Got it." Tawny glanced around. "I'm glad you came in because it's dead today. I can't wait for the busy season. I need the cash."

Catherine motioned for Lindsay to slide over. "Why don't you take five?"

Accepting the invite, she scooted into the booth.

"You know who you remind me of?" Lindsay stated as she gave Tawny the once over. "Hayden Panettiere, only you have brown eyes and way bigger boobs."

Mortified at her daughter's frank remark, Catherine shrieked, "Linds!"

"Oh like she doesn't know she has giant boobs."

Excited about the comparison, Tawny asked, "You really think I look like Hayden Panettiere? Okay, I know I'll sound like a total dork but…I saw Ice Princess and she was really pretty in that movie."

"I loved Ice Princess!" Lindsay cried out.

Giggling, Tawny confessed, "When I was little I dreamed of being an Olympic Ice Skater. My dad used to take me skating on a pond just like Michelle Trachtenberg skated on in the movie. He used to cheer me on and at the end of my performance, even though I stunk, he would throw branches on the ice for flowers."

With teenage verve, Lindsay shared, "I think Trevor Blumas is totally hot!"

"Me too!" Tawny gushed. "I love his eyes. I was dying for him to kiss her in the movie!"

"Hold up!" Catherine shook her head. "How old is this Trevor Blumas?"

Lindsay had an instant answer. "He'll be 21 on October 16th!"

Eyeing Tawny, Catherine shook her head, "Oh…my…god."

"Mom! Would you quit it!"

"Sorry, Honey." In shock at the revelation, Catherine kept gaping at the bubbly girl sitting next to her daughter.

"What's wrong?" Tawny innocently asked.

"I just realized that you and my daughter are only 8 years apart in age. You like the same movie stars and talk the same language. When Lindsay is 20, you'll only be 28! You're peers!" Stunned, she crashed against the back of the booth and rambled in a panicked tone. "I'm 42! That's 20 flippin' years older than you, Tawny! I'm old enough to be your mother! Last week I was giving Grissom shit because he's old enough to be your dad. Grissom and I could be your parents!" Knowing her daughter's curious mind, she emphatically said, "Not that I'm implying we ever slept together because he's like a brother to me."

Lindsay nodded, "I wouldn't have thought that because it's obvious, since he's married to Sara, that Grissom likes 'em young."

Bringing her hand to her head, she groaned, "When did I get _so _old!"

"Mom…calm down."

Flipping out, she reached for her water glass and guzzled. "Tawny is having a baby. My baby could be having a baby soon. That makes me old enough to be…"

"A grandmother," Tawny sweetly replied. Then she realized she mortally offended her boothmate. "I was uh…just filling in a blank. I wasn't implying that you looked like a grandma. I mean…I hope when I'm as old as you…I mean when I'm your age that I look _half_ as hot! I uh…should go get your cheesecake now." Feeling the death stare, Tawny hustled out of the booth and toward the bakery counter.

A little shocked, Lindsay looked over at her mom, "Whoa…"

"Yeah!" Catherine shrieked. "I'm so depressed. I'm definitely getting that work done. Thanks for feeling sorry for me, Honey."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lindsay remarked, "How did Greg Sanders score a chick with such a cool personality, good taste, a beautiful face and a hot bod? Did he find a lamp with a genie inside?"

"That's what Brass said!" Then Catherine realized just how scary it was that her daughter and Jim Brass shared the same sense of humor. "We joked that Greg's first two wishes were to be given the woman of his dreams and for her to have his child."

"What about his third wish?"

Amused by herself, Catherine replied, "I said it will be for his mommy's approval of Tawny so he gets to keep her."

Laughing, Lindsay told her mom, "You're pretty funny for an old woman."

"Gee thanks."

"And don't worry, you won't be a grandma any time soon." In a reassuring tone, she proclaimed, "I don't plan on having sex until I'm twenty-one."

Thrilled her daughter didn't say 'next week', Catherine asked, "Why twenty-one, Honey?"

In perfect Jim Brass style, Lindsay deadpanned, "Because that's when I'll be old enough to drink, so I figure I'll probably get ripped one night and fall into bed with some guy I pick up at a bar." She let her mother suffer for twenty seconds and then exuberantly announced, "Gotcha!"

"Maybe I shouldn't be worried about the church influencing you…maybe it's the church that should be worried."

**The Grissoms'  
****12:52 p.m. **

After returning from their intermission, Sara and Gil snuggled and resumed watching Sense and Sensibility.

"Here I am feeling The Colonel's pain again," Gil pulled Sara a little closer as he watched Brandon, looking terribly distraught, carrying Marianne's limp body. "Except in my version, Marianne is unresponsive from ingesting too much GHB laced alcohol and the locale is Lake Tahoe not England. See that?" He pointed to the screen. "When they carried Marianne away and he's just standing there spent…that was me watching them rush you into the ER."

Hearing the stress in her husband's voice, she said, "We never really talked about that part of incident." Hitting the pause button, she tenderly said, "You carried me in your arms like that?"

With emotion tingeing his voice he recalled the night. "After you collapsed in my arms, I carried you to the lobby to wait for the ambulance. When it came I placed you on the stretcher…and watched the color drain from your face." Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "It was so awful. I'll never forget the moment when the EMT asked about an SAE. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how close…"

"But you did get there," She reminded him as she nuzzled further into his arms and snapped him out of the painful memory. "And now Tahoe is a place of wonderful memories for us."

"That's right." He was grateful for the rescue. Taking the remote he pressed play. "I'm ready for a happy ending. Assuming the movie ends like the book."

**Crime Lab  
****Garage  
****1:14 p.m. **

Kneeling next to the car, Nick was reviewing tire tread patterns with Jas when his cell phone rang. "Stokes."

"I nailed my opening argument, Baby! I'm sure I got seven jurors in my pocket out of the gate! This creep is going down. I'm already lining up dates for him in prison!"

Smiling, he held up his index finger for Jas. "Was there ever a doubt?" He headed for the hall to get some privacy.

"Well…this one is really important to me and I always get a little case of the jitters when it's personal." Sighing, she said, "Truth is…I needed to hear your voice."

In a somber tone, he asked, "How old was the girl?"

"Eight."

In awe of her ability to handle cases that hit so close to her history, he remarked, "I'm so proud of you, Honey."

"Just doing my job. Which…I have to do right now, they're motioning us back in."

After glancing around, he whispered, "I love you."

"Tomorrow night…I'll show you how much I love you, Birthday Boy."

**The Grissoms'  
****2:11 p.m. **

When Gil fell asleep around two, Sara had stealthily slipped out of his arms and the bed, making a beeline down the hall to the library. Once there, she searched the fiction shelves until she found her copy of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, which she had obtained for English Lit.

With the novel in hand, she relaxed in one of the rooms leather reading chairs and flipped through the book to read the ending. The passage was just as she recalled…

"_Colonel Brandon was now happy, as all those who best loved him, believed he deserved to be – in Marianne he was consoled for every past affliction – her regard and her society restored his mind to animation, and his spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found her own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion and delight of each observing friend."_

Rising from the chair, she headed over to the antique desk in the corner of the room. From it, she pulled a slip of note paper and a pen and quickly jotted her note.

_In the quote I've underlined in the book, you're Brandon and I'm Marianne. _

_You know what else is interesting about Brandon and Marianne…_

_Apart they were broken, together they mended._

_He gave her Delaford, you bought me this house. _

_I bet Marianne got pregnant the day Brandon left a broom by the back door…_

_P.S. Happy Birthday a few hours early_

After underlining her selected quote in the book, she used her note as a bookmark and left the room clutching the novel. Returning to the bedroom, she placed it next to her husband and smiled.

Now that she was sure he was sound asleep, she left room once more, this time shutting the door behind her and scurrying to the kitchen. Hoping for better news with this call, she grabbed the cordless phone from the counter and punched in Greg's cell number.

"Sanders."

"It's Sara."

Hi gleeful voice boomed through the receiver. "Oh frabjous day! Callooh Callay!"

"No way!"

"Way!"

Thrilled beyond reason, she exclaimed, "You're the best, Greg!"

"Do you have any idea how many times you said that in my dreams?" He chuckled. "But in my dreams, it was always in relation to a different performance."

Joining in the humor, she replied, "Trust me, if you had been here Sunday, any sexual fantasies you ever had about me would have been dispelled."

"I'll uh…try not to wonder what that means exactly."

"Trust me…you don't want to know." Giddy that she was getting her wish for her husband's birthday, she asked, "So when will the surprise arrive?"

"Yeah…when I got the answer to that question was when I realized just how hard I shot myself in the foot helping you."

"Huh?" Pacing the floor, she said, "I'm not tracking."

"Mama Sanders will be flying out from California this evening to deliver the package to me _in person_…and she's staying for a couple of days."

Puzzled by Greg's mom's interest level, Sara inquired, "Why does she want to do that? It's not necessary, we'll meet the Fed Ex cut off time today for morning delivery."

"I'll give you two hints…it's a popular brand of paper towels depicting a large woodsman."

Enthusiastically she gave the answer, "Brawny!"

"Which rhymes with a certain girl's name..."

"Tawny." Sara cringed as she realized the significance. "Sorry."

"I thought I had until Labor Day weekend to prepare for this, now I've got six hours!"

"I'll be sure to get you something real nice when it's your birthday, Greg."

Snickering he cryptically said, "My birthday is May 7th, so if you were successful on Sunday, you might be otherwise occupied."

"Excuse me?" For a moment she fell speechless and then she said, "He told you about Sunday? Why would he share…what exactly did he tell you!"

"Relax…I didn't get _those _details. I was showing him a pregnancy website that has a due date calculator and when he plunked in Sunday's date as the date of conception, it churned out May 7th. So if Sunday was very reproductive..."

"May 7th…" Her concerned expression morphed into a blissful one. "Well then…I'll be sure to shop for your gift in advance Greg, so I have it wrapped and ready just in case just in case I'm indisposed with another birthday boy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 2"**

**August 16, 2005 (Day 116)  
****The Grissoms'  
****8:15 p.m. **

Sitting at the kitchen table eating a healthy dinner of broiled ginger salmon on mixed greens, Sara counted the minutes until her husband would be out of the house.

"You look tense…like you're trying to keep a secret," Gil declared as he scooped up the remainder of his salad. "Something on your mind?" As his fork full of greens entered his mouth he studied her eyes.

"No," She replied through a plastered smile. "You're imagining things."

"I think you're _bluffing_."

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not." Leaning over she eyed him through a narrow gaze. "Look a little closer."

He announced his decision with a smirk. "You're hiding something."

Grabbing her empty plate, she headed for the sink so he wouldn't keep staring. "You're not used to living with someone on the eve of your birthday. I'm hiding a couple of things from you and you'll have to deal with it because I'm not going to spoil the surprises."

"I've had some rather big surprises lately, so forgive me if I'm a little gun-shy." Joining her at the sink, he handed over his plate and brushed a kiss over her cheek. "I already loved my pre-birthday surprise…underlining that passage…and your note." From behind, he slipped his arms around her waist. "Thank you for going out of your way to make the day special even when you aren't feeling 100 percent."

Relaxing against him, she chuckled, "After all the crap I gave you about missing mine last year…of course I had to make yours special!"

"A-ha!"

"Yeah…I'm busted." Turning to face him she oozed with self-satisfaction. "It's all a big game of one-upmanship. Now, don't you think you should go to work a little early tonight and complete some of that supervisory paperwork you've been putting off? It won't be very nice to leave it all for Warrick when he takes over on Monday."

His pleasure over her thoughtfulness rivaled his fear of the unknown. "You're trying to get rid of me."

"Just this one time." She snatched a kiss. "And for a good cause."

"You said you had a very quiet, innocent day planned for my birthday."

"I wasn't _bluffing_," She assured him with a direct look in the eye. "The raucous, sinful evening is Saturday night when our friends invade."

Shuddering, he begged, "_Please _tell me there won't be dancing."

"Well…Catherine and Tawny will be here so…" Laughing at his apprehensiveness, she caved, "I absolutely swear there will be no mandated dancing and I'm sincerely hoping there won't be any voluntary dancing either." And when she saw he was still fearful, she gave in further. "Okay…okay…it's a poker party."

"Really?" He lit up like a Christmas tree. "Is Greg playing?"

"No!" With disdain in her voice she scolded, "He told me about losing 500 bucks to you. How could you take his money when he has a baby on the way and Tawny is only waitressing?"

"Honey…" He educated her, "Guys don't welch on bets. It's just not done. It's an unwritten rule…kind of like the one where wives don't tell _another living soul_ when their husband has ONE bad day in the bedroom."

"Ah." She nodded vehemently. "For the record, I've never uttered a word about your performance to anyone."

Joking, he told her, "Feel free to expound on the fantastic all you'd like."

"I'll be sure to work it into the conversation with everyone over cake in the break room tomorrow."

"Great!" He enthusiastically replied.

"You're bluffing."

"Absolutely." Taking her hand, he started for the hall. "I took Greg's money, but I used it to open a bank account on Monday…in trust for the future baby Sanders."

"Aww." She gave his hand a squeeze. Appreciative of the gesture toward the future baby Sanders. "You're such a softy." Cringing she whispered, "Sorry."

"I'm going to work now."

**McCarran Airport  
****8:29 p.m. **

Dressed demurely in a new delicate white and lavender floral strapless dress with a modest a-line silhouette which reached just above the knee, Tawny tried to control her rapidly escalating pulse rate. It didn't help that the bust-minimizing garment she was wearing restricted her breathing and the air conditioning in the terminal seemed to be on the fritz. "How much longer?" The plane had arrived three minutes ago and she couldn't imagine what was taking so long.

"Sweetie..." Greg grabbed her hand. "Airport management will make me pay for new carpeting if you wear a hole in it with your pacing." Truthfully he was just as nervous, but he was putting on a brave face for her benefit. At one point he even checked for sweat stains under the arms of the blueberry and green Lacoste striped button-down he was wearing…a shirt his mom had given him for his birthday.

Glancing down at her lavender dress sandals, she panted, "Are you sure I look okay? Do you think wearing a ponytail was a good idea? I don't want to look trampy. Do I look trampy?"

Staring at her cherubic face, he assured her, "You look wholesome enough to make me want to go to confession for fooling around with you earlier…and I'm not even Catholic!"

Too frazzled to think, she stared at her boyfriend. "Huh?"

"You look like jail bait!" Greg exclaimed, feeling a little guilty for enjoying the view, but taking solace in the knowledge that she was really twenty-two. "If I kiss you in public I'll probably be hauled into the station on a statutory charge."

"Oh," She eased into a smile. "So I look sweet and innocent."

Swinging her hand in his, he matched her smile. "I'm getting a cavity just lookin' at you." He wondered if it was too overboard. "If my mom is about to slap me for robbing the cradle, do me a favor and whip out your driver's license so we can prove your age."

"What if she hates me?" Tawny whimpered, feeling her pregnancy hormones surge.

"Everyone I've introduced you to has adored you." Leaning in, he tenderly kissed her glossy lips. "My mom is going to love you."

Just as Tawny was about to ask, _'do you love me, Greg?'_, a grey-haired passerby scowled at Greg as she snipped, "I bet you can't find someone your own age because of the silly hair."

"She's twenty-two," He snapped back at the nosy old woman. Then he said it louder for the benefit of everyone seated nearby. "She's twenty-two and I'm thirty, okay? A totally respectable eight year age difference! And I'll have you know I'm crazy about her and my intentions are bona fide! We're here to meet _my mother_. I'm not a pig!"

For the first time since Greg told her about his mom's unexpected visit, she laughed. "Are you crazy about me or are you just crazy, Greggy?" She inquired with her heart suddenly pounding for a new reason. He's crazy about me, she thought. Very close to those three words I long to hear…

"Are you Tawny?" Bev Sanders inquired in a spirited tone as she approached the vivacious girl she spied next to her son. One look and she panicked. Impregnating a stripper out of wedlock she could tolerate from her impetuous son. Impregnating an _underage _stripper out of wedlock would drive her to kill him.

"Y…yes." Standing eye to eye with the woman who could make or break her future happiness, Tawny fell speechless. Equal at five foot four, they locked eyes and exchanged smiles.

"Mom!" Greg boisterously threw his arms around her to give Tawny a minute to catch her breath. "You look great! I love what you've done with your hair! You went lighter and I love the texturized layers!" He couldn't stand the dowdy shoulder-length poker-straight bob she had sported for the last two years that made her look older than her fifty-seven years. "They'll mistake you for a high school senior when you return to teach next month."

Thrilled to have her only child in her arms, Bev momentarily forgot about the mother of her future grandchild who she worried was a high school senior. "I thought you'd be pleased. Your father likes it too. He thinks I'm hot…can't keep his hands off me."

"Don't squick me out, okay." He kissed her cheek. "I was flown in by the stork and that's the way it needs to stay."

"Speaking of the stork." Raising her brow at her loving son she said, "You distracted me."

Slipping his arm around Tawny's shoulders, Greg took a deep breath. "Tawny Ann Cooper, I'd like you to meet my mom, Beverly Hojem-Sanders." Stepping back, he waited with baited breath for his two worlds to collide.

Extending her hand, Tawny cracked a nervous smile. "It's so nice to meet you. Greg's told me so much about you."

Ignoring the hand, Bev wrapped her arms around Tawny, pulling her in for a warm hug. "You're carrying my grandchild and you tolerate my son…that makes you automatically huggable."

Returning the embrace, Tawny felt a tiny wave of relief. Then Mrs. Sanders asked, "Now, would you mind showing me your driver's license before I have a heart attack."

**The Grissoms'  
****8:45 p.m**

When the doorbell rang, Sara hurried to answer it, eager to greet her company. "Wendy, I can't thank you enough for helping me with this."

"It's my pleasure," She cheerily replied while entering the house with two large shopping bags. "The statute of limitations on my gratitude toward what your husband did for my family will _never _be up." Setting her bags down, she placed her purse and keys on the entryway table.

Sara nodded at the profound statement. "He'd say he was just doing his job."

Wendy quickly changed gears. "You sound much better today than you did on the phone yesterday. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks." She shut the front door and directed Wendy down the hall.

Glancing around at the impressive architecture and inviting decor, Wendy remarked, "You have an absolutely gorgeous home, Sara."

"Thank you. I guess I thought you had seen it before because Sean has been here a few times…"

"I hope he's not too much of a pest for Gil," She sighed. "If you don't want him to stop by tomorrow…"

"Are you kidding?" Sara flashed a smile. "Spending time with Sean has convinced Gil that he could be a good father. Especially the last outing to Primm. He's welcome anytime."

Wendy tried to resist the temptation to nose, but failed. "How are things going in the baby department, if you don't mind me asking?" She placed the shopping bags on the kitchen island and awaited a reply.

"Two months of no luck, but I'm feeling very good about this month's attempt." Grinning, she lowered her voice as if other people might hear. "I used a fertility monitor and we just finished up for the month so we'll know in a couple of weeks."

Unloading the groceries, Wendy copped a motherly tone. "I know you're a scientist, who likes predictability, but as a mother of four I urge you to try to leave some_ fun_ in the process or it will start to seem like a chore." She chuckled, "There are enough chores _after _the baby arrives and little time to have fun!"

Reaching for the special cookbook, Sara lightly huffed, "Yeah…uh…I think I got a too little _militant _this month."

"May I see the book?" Wendy politely asked. "Ever since you told me about it, I've been thinking how I'd love to make them for my children one day."

"Sure." Sara handed over Jillian's cookbook which she made for Gil when he graduated college and moved into his first apartment. "Check the flagged page. That's the Chicken Casserole recipe I sent you via e-mail. She made a note about it being his favorite supper."

"This is wonderful," She remarked while flipping through the detailed pages. "Definitely the work of a mother who loved her son."

"Yeah." Sara released a bittersweet sigh, "It's sad that our future child won't know her. He'll only know one grandparent, Gil's dad." At least she hoped things would work out with Ron and their little family would have at least one more member.

"It's the same with my children, I'm afraid." She returned the cookbook to Sara's hands. "Paul and Carrie's dad is the only surviving grandparent and he is determined to stay in California. Well…maybe once Carrie and Nick have a child he'll change his mind."

"That should be approximately nine months after the honeymoon, don't you think?"

"To the minute," Wendy agreed while donning her apron. "Okay…here's the deal. Based on your desire to reduce the fat in the recipe, I played around with it, making it twice. The consensus from my neighbors…because you know I'm a vegetarian and don't eat chicken…was that the second version was best." She handed Sara a note card embossed with 'From the Blake Kitchen to Yours' above the hand written recipe. "Hopefully it will smell and taste the same to give the proper nostalgic effect."

"This is great!" Sara was happy to have a competent partner in crime. "I never would have known how to do this. I feel so incompetent in the kitchen."

"That's okay, Dear." With a warm smile on her face, she handed Sara an apron. "I never knew that blood spatter analysis could convict my sister's killer until you explained it to me. We all have our strengths."

Slipping the apron over her head, Sara joked, "Speaking of skills, I'm grateful you're a cook with years of experience as a burn unit nurse so, if I scorch myself trying to cook, you'll be able to treat me!"

**Carson's Café  
****9:02 p.m.**

In the bustling café, Bev Sanders sat in the booth across from her son and his pregnant girlfriend trying to come to terms with it all…the fact her son was really a grown man…the idea that she would be a grandma in less than eight months…the disbelief that the beautiful, sweet, attentive girl at her son's side used to tear her clothes off for money…the knowledge that her innocent little boy recklessly bedded a girl who used to tear her clothes off for money. Hearing about it over the phone was surreal, but seeing it in person brought the reality crashing down around her.

"Mom?" Greg tapped her hand. "The waitress is asking for your order."

Snapping out of her daze, Bev apologized to the young lady, "Sorry!" Glancing at the menu, which she hadn't read, she said, "I'll have the turkey sandwich." After all, every café had a turkey sandwich.

"Which one?" Marcy the waitress prodded.

"Oh." Bev returned her gaze to the menu, searching for the turkey sandwich choices. "Ah…the Southwest, please. And a glass of Pinot Grigio."

"Look out, Mom's boozing," Greg teased as he glanced over at her. "You only drink wine when you're really tense."

"Well, I am tense," She confirmed in a casual tone laced with hysteria. "After all, it's not every day I get to meet the mother of my future grandchild…which is a mouthful to say by the way, but my son's _girlfriend _seems a little too casual considering the circumstances, don't you think, son? When I think girlfriend, I think 'hey, let's go to the movies'."

Tawny remained quiet while agreeing wholeheartedly with the woman she hoped would one day be her mother-in-law.

Subtlety never his mother's strong suit, Greg shifted uncomfortably in the booth. "I uh…prefer significant other," He finally answered.

"Really?" She rolled her eyes. "Are you sure that's not too much? I mean she's _only _carrying your child…do you think that really warrants the term _significant?_"

Tawny sat back and enjoyed the banter.

"Could we uh…not talk about this right now, Mom?" Greg forced a smile. "I don't want to make Tawny uncomfortable."

Turning her attention toward the sweet young thing, Bev said, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Dear." Although she wondered how anything could be more uncomfortable than walking around pregnant and not having a commitment from the father of the child.

"I'm okay," Tawny assured her. "I know this is all a big shock. It came as a _total_ shock to me too!"

"Oh…a _total_ shock." Bev patted the girl's hand. "So, you didn't know that having unprotected sex could result in pregnancy?"

"Um…"

The waitress returned in the nick of time. "One glass of Pinot, a Cranberry Juice with club soda, and a Corona."

After taking a lengthy sip, Bev smiled. "That's okay, Tawny. We both know who was the irresponsible party that night."

"It was morning actually because Greg…um..." She realized a little too late that she was oversharing, "…Greg used to work nights…like me." Lowering her head, she sipped her virgin cocktail.

A little surprised by his mother's interrogation, he said, "Mom, I thought we worked all of this out on the phone?"

"We did…" Clutching her wine glass, she unleashed a heavy sigh. "But now that I see the two of you together and Tawny…Tawny, Honey, you're so young and you just started college…And other than carnally, you barely know each other...there's no commitment…you don't have a house…you have no money saved to buy a place…I'm scared to death for the two of you, and…and…" Glaring at her boy, she griped, "Ugh! It all just makes me want to strangle you all over again, Greggy!"

Trying to help matters, Tawny announced, "It's the ponytail making me look so young." Quickly she unleashed it and with stripper flair, fluffed out her hair. "See…isn't that better?"

In reply, Bev downed the contents of her wine glass.

**Crime Lab  
****Grissom's Office  
****9:46 p.m. **

While Grissom was busy wading through personnel files trying to clean things up before handing over the job to Warrick, Catherine strolled in holding a gift and made herself comfortable in a guest chair.

His eyes still focused on the file in front of him, Grissom remarked, "I sense you're about to torture me about something."

"If you think receiving a gift is torture then, yes I am." With a buoyant smile, she plunked the medium-sized package covered in cartoon bug gift wrap and adorned with curly blue ribbon on his desk. "Happy Birthday! It's been one hell of a year and you deserve this."

Removing his glasses, Grissom looked at the gift and then at her. "You really didn't have to…"

"Don't!" She demanded while enjoying his discomfort. "To minimize the torture, I promise to say everything I have to say in one swoop so you don't have to squirm for long. All you have to do is sit there and take it like a man."

As the flush of discomfort heated his cheeks, he nodded.

Once he was complacent, she let her sentiments flow, "Congratulations on your Master Criminalist position, finally you have a title worthy of your expertise and I wish you the best. I will miss working with you…" She chuckled briefly. "…notice I didn't say _**for** _you."

Pushing past the awkwardness, Grissom smiled.

Softening her tone, she continued, "I'm really proud of you how much you've grown personally this year and look forward to being included in the rest of your journey. And lastly, and most importantly, I'm grateful for our friendship and delighted that you finally felt comfortable enough…or desperate enough, to open up and ask me for help when you needed it throughout the year. And when you did ask, and I gave my advice, it made me feel good that you took it. I hope we can continue to strengthen our relationship because…you're like family to me." After a quick exaggerated breath, she announced, "Okay…I think that's enough torture. Open your gift."

Moved by her words, he dug deep to muster a reply. "Thank you."

"You haven't opened it yet."

"For what you said." Taking the gift in his hands, he studied it for a moment then slid the ribbons.

"Any guesses?" She taunted.

"Too afraid," He replied while peeling off the colorful bug wrapping. "Nice paper."

"I'm saving the rest of the roll in case I need to wrap a baby gift in the future." Her anticipation grew as he grabbed his scissors to slice open the heavy tape on the cardboard box and when his eyes took in the contents, she shrilled with pleasure. "I had it custom made for you."

"Catherine…" With care, he removed the bronze sculpture of an antique microscope. "It's exquisite…the attention to detail."

Thrilled with his reaction, she informed him, "There's an inscription on the bottom."

Tossing on his glasses, Grissom lifted the beautiful sculpture and read the personal message.

_Always remember…  
__Lift your head out of that microscope.  
__Every year, a little more._

Overwhelmed by the gesture, he found himself only capable of gaping at her.

After a wink, Catherine spoke for him in a cocky tone. "I know. You love it. And in your own communicatively dysfunctional way, you're telling me that you like having me in your life and feel a little something for me too. Next birthday, after you've been in therapy for a year…I'll expect a verbal response."

Clearing a special place on his desk for the gift, he finally responded in a grateful tone, "Thanks for the reprieve."

"Now enough about you, let's focus on me." She kicked back in the chair, tossing her hair off her shoulder. "This aging thing stinks. Do you know what I realized today? Tawny is only eight years older than Lindsay! We were at the Cheesecake factory and the two of them were hittin' it off talking about guys and movies. How scary is that? I'm old enough to be Tawny's mother! When did this happen?" She shook her head. "I need you to approve a vacation request before you switch jobs because I don't want to ask Warrick because I already know he doesn't approve of my vacation plan."

Confused, he asked, "You're going somewhere without him?"

Frustrated, she groaned, "Desert Palms outpatient surgery center for a little nip, tuck and boost. They can fit me in on Monday, September 19th and I'll need the rest of the week."

"Ah." Reclining in his chair, he removed his reading glasses. "I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Warrick that it's unnecessary."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one with the sagging boobs!"

"Uh…"

Confident with her decision she lectured, "Just wait until you wake up one day and find one of your previously perky body parts drooping, my friend. You'll feel my pain and be grateful there are alternatives! If I could pop a pill and get my melons to stand at attention for hours, I would, but as usual…things are more complicated for women than men. Hell, maybe I should spend some extra time in the lab trying to invent Viagra for boobs!"

Reaching for a form he eagerly said, "We don't need to discuss it anymore, let's take care of it right now."

"It's so depressing. I swear I was twenty-two yesterday." Her mood dropped lower. "I sat there looking at Tawny today thinking, where did the last twenty years of my life go?"

While filling out his portion of the form Grissom listened to her vent.

"She probably rolls out of bed in the morning looking that gorgeous!" Running her fingers through her hair, she grumbled, "It takes a half hour each night to fight the ravages of time and then a half hour each morning to camouflage their existence!"

"Catherine…" Smiling, he dropped his pen. "You know one of the things I love about having you in my life?"

A little shocked by his question and tone, she shook her head. "No, what?"

"In less than two hours I'll turn forty-nine…one year away from a big, depressing 50 years old, and yet, instead of consoling me, you're sitting in my office whining about how **_you_** feel old and looking to me for sympathy." Handing over the form, his smile widened. "It's times like these when I catch a glimpse of what it must be like to have a sister."

On edge, she probed, "A younger sister or an older sister?"

"A gorgeous, vivacious, _highly _self-absorbed, **_younger _**sister."

Taking the form, she cracked a grin. "Thanks, bro."

"Before you go, I have a gift for you too." Opening his desk drawer he snickered, "I picked it up in Tahoe at an outdoor store and was waiting for the courage to tease you with it. This sibling rapport we have going at the moment seems appropriate so…here you go." He handed her the box. "I thought it would be a nice addition to your kit in case you ever find yourself in a jam like we were in the basement of Harper House."

"The Whiz?" Cocking her head she read the description above the picture of the silver funnel-like object. "The Whiz gives women the freedom to pass urine whenever and wherever they choose. The device is hygienic and easy to use. Simply hold it against the body and let gravity do the rest."

Starting to laugh, he reminded her, "When we were trapped without a bathroom, I believe your words were something like, 'the only time I ever want to be a man is when I have to pee. You guys can just unzip, whip out the one-eyed wonder and piss three feet away.' Well…other than paying for a surgery that Warrick would _definitely_ not appreciate, this is the best I can do to make your wish come true."

"This is funny," She announced while joining him in laughter. "This is _very_ funny! This is lifting your head out of the microscope big time. The old Gil never would have given me The Whiz and he never would have discussed peeing with me."

Taking her up on the offer, he replied in a professorial tone, "Peeing is a biological necessity which…"

**Carson's Café  
****10:02 p.m.**

Fidgeting in the booth, Tawny whispered in Greg's ear, "I need you to slide out for a sec, Sweetie. I'm going to burst if I don't use the restroom." Then she turned to Mrs. Sanders. "Sorry…one minute I'm fine and the next I'm about to explode!"

Knowing she meant business, Greg jumped up and let her dash away. "She's been like this all week."

"I remember it well," Bev sighed. "All three times I was pregnant." Recalling her two heartbreaking pregnancy losses, one before Greg and one after, she said, "I'll be praying Tawny has an easier time than I did."

Taking his mom's hand, Greg smiled, "Are you hoping it's a girl?" He knew the two babies she had lost were girls…sisters he never had a chance to meet.

"A healthy baby is my primary concern." Then she let the truth trickle out along with a smile. "But when I was in Nordstrom the other day I did find myself lingering in the pink section of their baby department."

Until now, Greg was hoping for a son, but upon seeing the glimmer in his mom's eyes, his wish changed.

"Tawny's a lovely girl, Greg," Bev confessed. "In fact, I can't imagine her up on a stage degrading herself…" Shaking her head, she asked, "What made her choose such a life? Was it the easy money?"

"It's complicated."

"All better!" Tawny cheered as she approached the table. "I'm getting fast, aren't I?"

Greg released his mom's hand and slid over so Tawny could fit.

Snuggling into his arms, she said, "I can't believe how little room it seems like I have in there. I'm starting to worry it's twins!"

Bev watched the color drain from her son's face and chuckled. "Guess you never considered that possibility, huh?"

Just then, the waitress delivered the check. "It's on me, Greg," Bev announced when her son rushed to grab it. "Do you have any idea how much a pack of diapers costs?"

"Uh…" He and Tawny exchanged ignorant glances. "No."

"$100 dollars per month for the first few months." Tossing her Platinum Visa on top of the check, she tutored, "In an effort to scare the crap out of high schoolers, we implemented a new health curriculum that teaches this sort of thing to teens nowadays. In case any of the students approached us on personal matters, all the teachers, regardless of subject were required to attend a workshop on it." Looking at the two clueless future parents, she bestowed her knowledge. "College education included, it will cost $500,000 to raise your child."

"Holy shit!" Tawny shrieked before covering her mouth and apologizing. "Sorry."

Bev chuckled, "No, I think your comment is absolutely correct. You're in deep shit." Glancing at Tawny's well endowed chest. "Are you planning on breastfeeding?"

"I'm hoping to, but since I uh…"

"Had a boob job?" As if she thought it were humanly possible for a petite waif to have such large breasts.

"Yeah…" She nervously replied, "They might not work. We have to wait and see."

"I hope so, because formula will set you back $300 each month. So, formula and diapers alone is $400 per month. What else?"

Greg tapped his significant other on the shoulder. "Now I have to go." Racing out of the booth, he said, "I think I'm gonna hurl."

**The Grissoms'  
****10:25 p.m. **

Looking at the sautéed chicken bits, Wendy shook her head. "Can't stand the look of chicken, raw or cooked. The only time I ever ate the stuff was when I was pregnant and craving it."

"Really?" Sara exclaimed while salivating over the chicken in the pan. "Because all of a sudden on Sunday…I ate matzoh ball soup with chicken broth and then yesterday, when Gil was at work, I snuck some of his chicken breast from the fridge. Right now I'm fighting the urge to snatch a piece from the pan."

Smiling, Wendy said, "It could be a craving, or it could be wishful thinking. I know it's hard but try to stay calm and not read into everything. Although, I have to admit, I was the same way when I was trying for the first time. I thought everything was a sign."

Putting down her sauté spoon, Sara dropped her guard and asked, "What are the real signs? I mean, I've read all the books but I want to hear the real story from an expert."

"Well…everyone is different, so what I say about me might not be true for you, and remember, my first pregnancy was with twins, but here goes." Wiping her hands on a dishrag, she recounted her symptoms. "With all three pregnancies I conceived on the first attempt and had sore boobs within a week of conception. I also had wicked cramping a bit lower than normal and a little spotting."

"Implantation bleeding?" She queried, having read about it in her books.

"Exactly." Readying the Tupperware for the pre-cooked chicken, she continued, "Talk about being antsy; with my first pregnancy, I must have run to the bathroom a hundred times a day thinking I was about to get my period, but it never came. Paul and I did the test a few days after I was supposed to get it and sure enough…I was pregnant." Sighing, she said, "Of course, the stress didn't end there. I had spotting for the first four months…always around the same time I was due to get my period."

"I've read that's normal for some women, some even get it all nine months." Sara groaned, "Not really fair considering that's one of the perks!"

"Very little about pregnancy is fair, Sara. Starting off with the fact that only women can be pregnant." Packing up the chicken for tomorrow's casserole preparation, she imparted more knowledge on her eager student. "Okay, about a week after conception, my boobs started killing me and feeling really hard and big. If Paul hugged me or touched them I yelped. One good thing though…I was **barely **a B before my first pregnancy and I ballooned to a D. After all was said and done, I evened out to a full C and that's where I've stayed."

"Gil would like that perk!" She blurted prior to covering her mouth.

"That's hardly spilling the beans on an intimate secret, Sara." Wendy chuckled, "What man doesn't?"

Conceding the fact, she let her embarrassment fade. "Anything else? Did you get morning sickness?"

"Only a few times. That's definitely one of those individualized symptoms. Because my neighbor, who normally has an iron stomach, found herself puking her guts out morning, noon and night. She had to go on medication to stop it so she wouldn't dehydrate."

Cleaning up from the prep work, Sara remarked, "Let's hope I'm not like that because we tend to run into a bad smell or two at the office."

"With the twins I was exhausted." Wendy reluctantly recalled, "I had to nap twice a day. I was fine with McKenna but Ashley made me feel like a walking corpse most of the time." Glancing around the kitchen she said, "Okay, all the prep work is done, so all you have to do tomorrow is prepare the casserole dish and combine everything. Your dessert is made. And you said you have the salad under control. Anything else?"

"Thanks for your patience." She embarrassingly admitted, "I can't believe how remedial I am at cooking."

"It's not an innate talent." Placing a hand on Sara's shoulder, she smiled. "You didn't have anyone to teach you and then you didn't have the time to teach yourself while going through school and working." Suddenly, an idea hit her. "You know what I need to do…I need to have you and Carrie over a couple of times a month and give you cooking lessons. If you learn some basics, you can share the burden with Gil and then you won't always be stuck doing the dishes. At least you have a husband that cooks well. Unfortunately for Carrie, Nick can't cook either. Their kids will be living off microwave entrees if I don't intervene."

"If you wouldn't mind…" Sara bristled and then remembering her therapy goals, pushed past her discomfort and accepted the help and pseudo kinship. "I'd um…I'd really like that."

"Great." Checking her watch, Wendy said, "As much as I would love to stay and chat, I've got a five a.m. wake up call to take Ryan to football sports camp."

Walking down the hall with her, Sara confirmed, "So I'll expect you with Sean at 4:30 tomorrow?"

"Yes, but I warned him we can't stay long because you have company coming for dinner." On the table next to the door, she picked up her purse and car keys. "I'm taking him to the planetarium afterwards so it shouldn't be too much trouble to get him to leave." Even though she wasn't sure Sara would feel comfortable with it, Wendy reached over and gave her hug. "You did great tonight."

After a brief hesitation, she returned the hug. "Thanks again for your help."

Pulling away, Wendy teased, "Feel any boob pain when I hugged you?"

"No." She laughed. "But it's only three days post ovulation. Good night, Wendy."

"Night!" She replied, while hurrying to her car parked on the street.

Just then, Sara saw Greg's car pull in the driveway. Happy that her plans were falling into place so nicely, she waved.

A moment later, she saw Greg, Tawny and a woman who she assumed was Mrs. Sanders with a different haircut, approaching. "My partners in crime!" She called out.

"Hey, Sara!" Tawny warmly greeted as she dashed up the front walk. After giving a quick hug, she begged, "Can I please use your bathroom?"

"Of course." Sara smiled at Greg. "You can show her where it is since you've vomited in there twice since I've lived here."

"Yeah, today, I uh…took care of that before arriving so you're safe." Taking Tawny's hand, he said, "Mom you remember, Sara." And then he whisked his bladder challenged significant other into the house.

"Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Sanders."

"Please…call me Bev." Taking her left hand, she inquired, "Still have a scar?" She first met Sara when she came to visit Greg in the hospital after the lab explosion.

"Just a tiny one." She opened her palm. "Wow…that seems like a million years ago."

"Not to me," She sighed heavily before changing subject. "So, um…as I understand it, congratulations are in order. You and Grissom have married since I last saw you. I didn't believe it when Greg first told me, but I see you have a beautiful wedding band to prove it."

"It's a little shocking, I know." She led her inside and then shut the door. "I really appreciate what you did for me."

Handing over a small shopping bag, Bev assured her son's friend, "Nonsense, I felt like Sherlock Holmes so it was quite fun. It was much easier than I expected it to be. Greg did a quick computer run of all the libraries within a certain radius of Marina del Rey and then I took it from there."

Reaching into the bag, Sara retrieved the royal blue cloth covered book with a gilded picture of the Queen of Hearts on the cover.

"Check the inside flap. The inscription is unharmed." Bev beamed with delight. "The librarian said they kept the book in an antique reference section. Since it was labeled as a reference book, it couldn't be checked out. She recalled it the second I said the inscription might include the name Jillian."

Carefully, Sara cracked open the worn cover.

_**Dearest Jillian,**_

**_Like Alice, never be afraid of experiencing a little adventure.  
_**_**And if ever you find you can't experience one first hand,  
**__**you can always open a book and get carried away.**_

**_Love, Grandma Erin and Grandpa Owen_**

Silently, Sara re-read the last line again. Grandma Erin and Grandpa Owen. Then she thought…Erin Grissom, Owen Grissom…I think we may finally have some baby names. Stirred to tears, Sara glanced over at Bev. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, I wish I didn't see your eyes watering." Bev dove into her purse for tissues. "It's been such an emotional night already and your tears are the proverbial straw breaking this overtaxed camel's back. Seeing you with that book…ugh…now all I can think about is passing on my Through the Looking Glass book to Greggy to read to his child, and that makes me realize my child is no longer a child but a grown man."

"I don't usually cry this easily," Sara explained as she accepted the tissue being given to her. "I guess I'm just really happy..."

Greg strolled over smirking. "Or you're pregnant! Because let me tell ya…it's a waterworks factory daily at my place. TV commercials send Tawny running for a Kleenex."

Blotting her eyes, Sara asked, "Does Tawny eat a lot of chicken?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 3"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****Crime Lab  
****6:44 a.m. **

The task of forcing Gil into the break room for the annual tradition of birthday cake and harassment, previously Catherine's responsibility, fell upon Sara this year. Anxious to see the birthday boy, even though she had spoken with him twice on the phone earlier, she strutted into the room and in the perkiest voice she had in days announced, "Guess whose job it is to kidnap you and make you eat cake?"

Removing his glasses, he looked up at his wife. The floral print of her beige lace-trimmed camisole accompanied by her fitted rose-colored jacket exuded a degree of femininity that he found highly appealing this morning. "You look fantastic." Radiant was the word that popped into his mind. Maybe it was because she didn't appear remotely ill for the first time in days? Or maybe…he was surprised the whimsical thought entered his logical mind…maybe it's because she's pregnant.

"It's a new outfit." She smoothed her hands over her abdomen and let them drop onto her tan straight-leg trousers. "And I feel much better, almost 100 percent."

Rising from his chair, he navigated towards her. "Seriously…you look absolutely gorgeous." Her hair was shiny and styled, her eyes were gleaming and her smile exuded a warmth he couldn't resist.

"Down boy!" She teased, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "Is 49 a particularly randy age for men?"

"I don't know, but the good news is, we have 365 days to prove the theorem."

"Hey!" Catherine shouted from the office door. "I never took this long getting his ass to the break room! We're all waiting. Don't you know how to crack the whip by now, Sara?"

"I guess not," She deeply chuckled.

Frustrated, Catherine grumped, "Well now I know what I'm getting you for your birthday next month…a gift certificate to Lady Heather's Dominion for some domination lessons! Now move it!"

Once Catherine was gone, Sara groaned in her husband's direction.

"I never told her anything!" He assured her. "Much to her disappointment, I've never shared a single detail of my sex life with her ever. And you know, if she _really_ knew, she wouldn't joke about it like that with you. Even Catherine has limits."

Heading out of the room, Sara remarked, "How is it that Lady Heartless keeps coming back to haunt me? It's bad enough she went out of her way to humiliate me twice, but hearing my friends talk about her is beyond irritating. If I never hear that woman's name or see her again, I'll be…"

"Hey!" Brass interrupted the couple's discussion. "It's Birthday Boy and Flu Girl."

Sara's frown reversed upon seeing The Brass Man. "I'm fully recovered and so far, he hasn't caught my cooties."

With no difficultly, he mustered a reply. "When the only game the two of you play is Scrabble, you're not likely transfer germs."

"Speaking of germs…" Sara hurried toward the break room to supervise the cake handling.

Grissom stared at his friend like his days on the planet were numbered. "How are things with your mystery lady Jim?"

"Great." He nodded as he pulled Grissom into an empty office. "What? Like I was going to call Sara up when she was sick as a dog and drop the bomb?" Snickering he said, "I'll just show up at your house on Saturday night with her on my arm and that will be the end of it."

"If the end is in reference to your life, then you're correct."

"I was kidding." Caught between a rock and a hard place, Brass posited, "How can I tell Sara? She just gave me this great pen with this wonderful sentiment…and she looked at me like Ellie used to look at me. How am I supposed to turn around and tell her I'm involved with her mortal enemy? When I do, she's going to look at me the way Ellie started looking at me and hasn't stopped. I'm having a hard time with…"

"You're not only risking your relationship with Sara, you're putting my ass on the line," Grissom warned in a tone containing not a smidge of jest. "You're lucky she hasn't asked me if I know who it is. If she asks, I have to tell her because I'm not going to lie to my wife. The thing is, Jim, I'm already committing a sin of omission by knowing the truth and not telling her every time the subject comes up. You know what we just went through. I don't need another crisis in my marriage and I don't want Sara blindsided."

Vigorously massaging his temples, Brass groaned, "I wouldn't be in this situation if you had listened to me in the first place and opted for the damn sports car."

"This is all my fault?" Flabbergasted by his audacity, Grissom snipped, "Is this some kind of a birthday roast?"

"I'm sorry," He groveled. "Look…I don't want to dampen the birthday fun. I'm bringing someone else to the party and that will bide a little time. I promise I'll tell Sara next week after the festivities. Okay?"

"Fine." He wasn't happy but he couldn't disagree with the logic. "Who are you bringing?"

"Another scandalous friend of yours," He goaded. "A hot little number…Ms. Roxie Delacroix. You uh…ever jump in the sack with her for a one-nighter?"

He didn't dignify the joke with an answer.

"I'll take that as a no." Feeling bad, he gave Grissom a little shove. "Come on…it's your birthday. Let's lighten the mood. Imagine the looks on Nick and Greg's faces when I show up with _Roxie, _the sixty five year old self-proclaimed, 'Strip Queen of The Strip',as my date."

As much as he didn't want to crack a smile, the visual stirred him to do just that. "Catherine will love it."

Glad his friend was snapping out of his funk, Brass continued, "Roxie is all set to play along too. Only you and Sara will know that the two of us aren't a hot and heavy item. Think of it as a little four-way role play with no latex required."

In awe of his friend's twisted mind, Grissom remarked, "You're really are a sick pup at times."

Proud of the compliment, Jim grinned uncontrollably. "Why do you think Heather finds me so damn loveable? You may have had her first, but I have her at my beck and call."

Suddenly Sara appeared in the doorway startling them both. "What the hell are the two of you doing in here? Everyone is waiting to eat cake."

In a bold move, Gil informed his wife, "Jim just told me which mystery lady he'll be bringing to our house on Saturday night."

"Who?" Sara's face lit up as she waited to hear the long awaited news.

"Roxie Delacroix," Her husband replied.

Sara's eyes crossed from staring so intensely at Jim.

"She's uh…not the same mystery lady I took to Vancouver," He explained. "I'm a man of many mysteries and I will reveal all in time. Saturday night I'm unveiling Roxie…she's a platonic friend, but don't tell the others because Roxie likes people to think she's getting lucky with me. You know…because I'm such a stud."

Sara was a little surprised by the news, but feeling empathy for Roxie's obvious low self-esteem, she felt compelled to comply. "Uh…okay. We really need to hit the break room now."

In silence the three walked down the hall, each contemplating what they had just learned, were hiding or were hoping wouldn't come to light.

"Finally!" Catherine shouted as the only three missing from the festivities entered the break room.

Nick, Jas and Pete, dressed in their court suits, were conferring in the corner of the room discussing the testimony they would be giving later this morning. When Brass saw them he hurried to get the scoop.

In the opposite corner, Warrick, Trey and Nina were discussing a baffling case and enjoying their new working relationship.

Sofia and Hodges had opted out of the party due to conflicts of interest…Sofia had a hot date with a mortician and Hodges preferred not to breathe the same air as Greg if given the option.

Greg, who was manning the coffee pot, had two special guests with him…his mother and Tawny. Grissom strolled over to see them.

"Kona Diamond for my favorite OLD boss." Greg was pleased with the double entendre. "Happy Birthday, Gris."

Nodding he took the mug and turned to Greg's mom. "Beverly," He warmly greeted. "It's great seeing you again." He'd never forget how traumatized she was when she arrived at the hospital after the lab explosion. "Did you come out to meet Tawny?"

"Yes, and I'm enjoying her company immensely. Happy Birthday, Gil," She replied while shaking his hand. "I insisted Greg bring me in to see everyone." From the corner of her eye she glared at Catherine. "Almost everyone."

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Grissom!" Tawny gleefully greeted as she gave him her trademark overzealous hug. "I have my next session this morning at eight and I scored a 98 on my first community college online Algebra assignment! I would have had 100, but I left out a negative sign in a final answer."

Sara had never seen her husband and Greg's girlfriend together before and was quite surprised by their comfort level with one another.

Used to the physical and verbal assault, Grissom didn't flinch and returned the girl's generous embrace. "I'm very proud of you, Tawny." They were the words he knew she longed to hear and spoke them freely. "I knew you would be great at school when you returned."

Brimming with pride, she gazed into his eyes. "Thanks for having so much faith in me, Mr. Grissom."

"Really…you need to drop the Mr. Grissom, it's making me feel old. Just call me Gil."

Catherine postured next to Sara, who thankfully was a good distance from Mrs. Sanders' evil eye. "Cute, aren't they? You do realize she sees him as a father-figure, right? Twenty bucks right now says she asks him to walk her down the aisle when she eventually marries Greggy."

"That's uh…a little hard for me to grasp right now." She continued to watch the interpersonal interaction with curiosity.

Elbowing her friend, Catherine teased, "Yeah…well I'm old enough to be her mother and I'm not grasping that very well myself." Clapping her hands, she captured everyone's attention. "I need the two birthday boys over here with me so I can spank them." As everyone laughed, she declared, "It's not sexual harassment, it's my job. Without further adieu, and because we know as I speak, someone somewhere is dropping dead in this town and will put an end to our tomfoolery, I will cut to the chase and say, Happy Birthday, Gil…may this last year of your forties be as exciting as all forty-eight combined."

Brass interjected, "Come on, he's entitled to a little more fun than that, don't you think! Or should I say, Sara is!"

To which Gil replied, "That DB can't be discovered soon enough for me."

Forging on, Catherine turned her focus on Nick. "And to our other birthday boy, the much younger and less wise, Nick Stokes…thirty-five years old tomorrow…that's the mid-thirties my friend, you're on the upward charge to forty now. This time next year you'll be a married man and ladies all across Vegas will have only memories to fill their beds at night."

"Hey! Not in front of Greg's mom!" Nick teased the sweet lady standing next to him. "She'll call mine and tell her I'm not a virgin."

Bev smiled at her son's friend. "I've got my hands full with Greg right now, so you're off the hook."

Nick's cell phone ringing cut the laughter short. "Place your bets people." Without hesitation, the CSIs in the room waged their guesses as if it were the most normal thing in the world to shout codes for dead bodies, rape and assault.

"419!"

"426!"

"415!"

"666! His fiancée is feeling devilish and is calling to get him hot and bothered!" Brass shrugged. "I'm an optimist, what can I say?"

Plugging his left ear, Nick took the phone into the hall to hear better.

Catherine was busy cutting the cake while the vultures circled. "I know the County doesn't pay well, but is this the only food you've seen this week?" Handing the first piece to Sara, she taunted, "Since we didn't get invited to your ten minute wedding, feed your husband a bite of cake and we'll forgive you."

"You've obviously lost your mind," Sara replied while staring at the delusional woman. "We're not into PDAs."

Nina snarked, "You wouldn't have guessed that from watching the two of you making out on TV."

"When will the statute of limitations be up on THAT!" Sara begged to know. Wasn't it about time for another scandal?

Warrick didn't waste time answering, "Right after you feed your man a bite of cake." The small crowd enthusiastically agreed through claps and cheers.

"I'm game if you are," Gil proposed. "We're married and it doesn't violate department policy, so there won't be any repercussions other than embarrassment."

Stunned he was complying; Sara broke into a nervous smile. "Okay then." She inserted the fork into the creamy chocolate frosted cake, producing a gooey bite. "Happy Birthday."

"I was _bluffing_!" He said right before she shoved the forkful of cake in his mouth.

"They made contact!" Brass yelled with the verve of a football announcer. "Quick, someone run outside and see if dogs and cats are frolicking together in the street."

Blushing to a deep shade of red, Sara couldn't look anyone but her husband in the eye. "I can't believe I just did that in the break room."

"Trust me…" Catherine assured them. "…it's not the most scandalous thing to ever happen in the break room by far."

"I'm sure you would know," Sara chuckled as she licked chocolate frosting off the tip of her index finger.

"Okay…sorry, party's over," Nick boomed. "I need the dynamic duo…Sara and Greg." He handed over a slip of paper to Sara. "It's a 420…execution style, in a _lovely _part of North Las Vegas. Vega and his boys are en route. I want a weapons check, then pack it and don't forget your vests... 'cause I'm a safety guy."

A hush fell over the room until Grissom broke the silence with a question. "You sure you don't want to send a third person on the call?"

Nick shook his head, "One DB, clearly a 420…it's a two person job. Pete, Jas and I are due in court in an hour." Watching Grissom's expression he realized it wasn't the number of people, but rather who he was sending to do the job.

Likewise, Tawny and Bev were suddenly faced with the reality of their loved one's dangerous job, but remained silent so as not to embarrass Greg.

"It's fine," Sara announced as she stood confidently and met her husband's concerned gaze. "I know Greg has my back and he knows I have his." Questions zipped through her mind. Is this how it's going to be from now on? Is Gil getting scared again? Why all of a sudden? Is it the prospect that I could be carrying his child that flares his concern? Maybe a flashback to the Dales Trail incident has him riled?

Nina, the daughter of a career military man and self-professed adrenaline junkie, blurted, "Chill out, Grissom. You know Sara is safe with Greggy, he's her hero of Dales Trail!"

Curious as to the meaning of the woman's statement, Bev probed, "What do you mean by that, Dear?"

"Uh…" Greg tried to stop Nina but she was too quick.

"Your son didn't tell you about saving Sara's life at a crime scene out in Blue Diamond?" Nina was happy to brag on her team member's behalf with the same enthusiasm she normally used with her danger-loving dad. "Greg and Sara were processing in a remote desert locale when out of nowhere a perp pistol-whipped Greg, leaving him for dead. Then, the scumbag captured Sara to use her as a getaway driver with plans to rape and kill her…or knowing the kind of sicko the pig was…he might have killed then raped her. Anyway, Sara managed to put up a valiant fight but in the end she was overpowered. As she was down on the ground one second away from taking a bullet in the third eye, Greg showed up, blood gushing from his head, lunged for the gun and shot the bastard dead to save Sara's life. Pretty damn impressive, huh! Aren't you proud of your boy?"

Bev's answer was eclipsed by Tawny passing out cold.

"Got her!" Nick called as he caught her before she hit the floor. "Does this happen a lot, Greg?"

"No!" Flooding with panic, Greg rushed to her side. "Tawny…"

Bev had an explanation. "Maybe the harrowing details of how my son almost died shocked the hell out of her!"

Nina realized a little too late that she was dealing with two squeamish civilians. "Sorry."

Greg took Tawny from Nick's arms. "Sara, can you grab the…"

"Got it." Grissom was already on his way with the first aid kit he pulled off the wall. "Smelling salts." He tore the end off the packet. "Sara, elevate her legs."

"Wait!" Bev shouted. "Is that stuff safe for the baby?"

Grissom confidently replied, "Yes, we replaced the old ammonia variety with herbal ones about a year ago for that very reason." He waved the packet under her nose and a few seconds later, he saw her eyes flutter open. "She's coming around and she's breathing fine."

"Baby?" Trey and Nina said to each other. That was a new detail.

On that note, Warrick rallied his teammates and whisked them out of the room. Pete and Jas followed so they wouldn't appear nosy.

"You fainted, Honey." Greg soothed her by brushing her hair. She looked so helpless lying there on the floor and the instinct to protect her rushed through him. "You're okay."

"Oh." Tawny saw Greg and Grissom's concerned faces looming over her. "Sorry. Didn't mean to cause a scene."

"I'm just glad you're okay." Greg heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'll take over," Bev told her son. Putting on a brave face, she said, "You have a job to do."

Suddenly Grissom was reminded that Sara did as well. "Call me when you're on your way back," He instructed his wife. "And if you need an extra hand, don't hesitate to call me in."

Downplaying his concern, she casually replied, "Go home and get some sleep. There's a gift for you on your pillow." Once Nick took over elevating Tawny's feet, Sara stood. "Alright, Greg, let's roll."

Nodding, he left Tawny in his mother's care. "I'll check in with you later. Have fun."

Kneeling side by side over Tawny, Bev glanced over at Grissom. "I still can't get used to having Greg in the field. Especially not after that story. How do you handle your wife going out there wearing a bulletproof vest and potentially getting shot at?"

"I uh…" Suddenly his old fears came surging back. "Um…"

Nick replied, "Greg and Sara are both excellent CSIs, ma'am. Trained professionals. I'm not worried. They'll be fine." Catching Grissom's eye, Nick gave a nod. "Isn't that right, Gris?"

"That's right."

**Sara's Tahoe  
****7:53 a.m. **

At a red light, Sara reached over and gave Greg's shoulder a squeeze. "You wanna call and check on her again?"

"Don't you mean _them_?" A tortured sigh slowly leaked out of his mouth. "They really didn't need to hear that information. I purposely didn't tell my mother about it because I knew she'd freak. She's was having a hard enough time with me being in the field already. Plus she's stressed over the pregnancy. Nina and her big mouth."

"Does your mom approve of Tawny?"

"Are you kidding? I think she wants to adopt her." Staring out the window, he watched the scenery zip by and forced himself to crack a joke. "That wouldn't be incest, would it?"

"Technically no, but it's a bit too squicky for my taste."

"Did you happen to notice that your husband was getting twitchy over you being on this call?" He turned to watch her reaction. "I'm pretty sure he was having a flashback to Dales Trail. You think he's going to be able to handle you in the field after you get pregnant…that is, if you're not already pregnant?"

Needing to get her concern off her chest, she shared her thoughts. "After Dales Trail he didn't want us to try anymore. It took a while to get past it, but we did. That look on his face earlier…it was the same look he had back then." Now she had another excellent reason to want this month to be a success…Gil might get cold feet again.

"I can't blame him," Greg admitted, feeling a little bad for not supporting Sara more. "I didn't even want Tawny to take a job at night because I was worried about her and the baby. Sorry to say this to you, but…there's no way I could handle her headin' off to gangland sporting Kevlar and waving a pistol. All of a sudden, all I want to do is protect her."

"And I thought you were a modern guy?" Refusing to get bogged down in the morbidity, she teased, "Anyway, Tawny couldn't fit into a vest with those gigantic boobs!"

Taking the bait, he chuckled, "They are out of control. After the pregnancy and breastfeeding, she wants to have them reduced back to Bs."

"Awww, are you crushed that she wants to return to her _mortal_ state?" She asked, knowing that Tawny's initial appeal to Greg was her D cups and open door booty call policy.

"Honestly?" He hid his embarrassment by glancing out the window. "I'm still getting a rush from having the ultimate hottie on my arm. I never got anywhere _near_ a girl like her in school. You should have seen Nick and Warrick's eyes pop out of their heads the first time they saw her. You know how many times those two have been around the block with women of _substance…_so if Tawny renders _them_ speechless, she's a knockout."

Disappointed with his reply, she said, "You really want your girlfriend, the mother of your child, objectified like that? Don't you want people to see the other good qualities about her? Because the way it stands right now…with the jumbo jugs, giant stripper hair and talons for nails…all guys are seeing is a babe they'd like to bag. Sounds like a paradox to me…you say you want to protect her, but you parade her around knowing men are leering at her? No comprendo Greggo."

Unable to discount her observation, he copped to the shameless truth. "I'm not proud of my shallowness. I'm just about beyond it, but the geek in me, the one who went twenty-nine years without a hottie...is begging for a few more weeks of one-upmanship."

Getting more irked by the second, Sara chided, "Incredibly selfish behavior and you know…the guys may be gawking at your babe, but it cheapens her and ultimately they have no respect for you…which is the opposite of what you're going for and could get you into big trouble."

Feeling guilty, he uttered, "You mean like what happened with Hodges?

"You're lucky Hodges is a delicate flower like you." She scolded, "What happens if you're out showing off your hottie and some six-foot five, 300 pound muscle man decides he likes what he sees? You're playing with fire and you may not be the only one who gets burned." On a roll, she kept on lecturing. "A respectable guy doesn't flaunt his woman's sexuality for other men to enjoy. Do you think Nick sleazes-up Carrie in a micro-mini and leather bustier, then takes her out for a night on the town so other men can salivate over her? With previous women_, hell yeah_, but not a woman he _respects_…not the woman he took home to meet Mama Stokes and not his future wife and mother of his children. Sure, Nick's more than willing to listen to you talk about Tawny's acrobatic maneuvers in the sack, but does he ever reciprocate with tales of Carrie?"

"Nope." With conviction, Greg announced, "Yeah…it's official, I feel like shit."

"Good!" Losing the edge in her voice, she opted for an educational vibe. "Look…I'm not talking about being happy to have someone attractive on your arm. And I can empathize with your ugly swan/late bloomer syndrome. When Gil and I went to the opera in San Francisco and he looked great in his tux, I was thrilled to be out and have a sexy, sophisticated man by my side. We even ran into an old boyfriend of mine and I played it to the hilt, but on an _intellectual _level…" She paused for a chuckle. "Uh, now that I've uttered the term sexy in regards to my husband, I feel I should emphasize this conversation is _confidential _and stays that way."

"I copy," Greg assured her. "And you want to take a left up here."

While following his driving directions, she continued her lesson. "I've only been in a serious relationship for a year so I'm hardly an expert…and I'm not a guy, but here's what I think you're missing. The real rush isn't _sharing _every inch of your woman's assets with the world, it's keeping her assets away from the rest of the world and knowing they are yours _exclusively_ to enjoy while the other guys can only _dream_ of seeing them." Her voice turned mischievous. "You think I don't know that Gil likes having me on his arm looking fine? Of course he does, but never at my expense. He doesn't want the whole world to see all of me._ He_ knows what's under my red dress and how I'll behave out of it…the rest of world can only speculate. You're not giving the rest of the world a chance to speculate on Tawny because what they see is _almost _everything you get."

Never quite having a conversation like this with Sara, he was highly intrigued and began taking a more active role. "Like the whole librarian by day, red-hot vixen by night mystique?"

"Exactly!" She chuckled. "Why do you think that's such a turn-on…because no one really knows what's under that conservative suit the librarian is wearing. They don't know what she looks like with her hair down and her glasses off…or how she'll act. It's all speculation."

Teasing her, he provided another analogy. "Kind of like how everyone speculates if you and Grissom do more than crossword puzzles in bed."

"Right!" Keeping her eyes on the traffic, she laughed with Greg.

"Of course, Boom Boom, _I _know all about your adventurous play from that time when you were extremely inebriated and uncharacteristically uninhibited at The Lunar Lounge. What was it you said you earned from Grissom? 500 bucks for _services_ rendered?" He shook with laughter. "I'll never forget Brass' face when you dropped that bomb!"

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" She laughed harder. "Boom Boom doesn't make public appearances because Gil doesn't want other guys enjoying her talents…they're his exclusively. So there he is standing in the break room while you guys are cracking jokes about us, but the whole time he knows two things…one, you're _dying _to know the truth about me, and two…he's gettin' plenty of _quality_ action at home. Speculation my friend…try it."

"Oh, I've done my fair share." He sighed, "Do you have any idea the amount of speculating the guys and I have done over the type of underwear you wear?"

"I had a feeling." She chortled, "You guys are always checking for panty lines when I bend over at crime scenes. So what's the bet?"

"Twenty bucks. Warrick says thong, Nick says no way, you're a traditional panty girl." Like a giddy school boy, he shared his guess, "I say _none_."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She taunted in a laugh. "Now I'll prove my point that speculation is always more exciting. Warrick's right."

Crushed by the loss…both of the fantasy and the bet, he only had one salvation. "Since this conversation was deemed confidential, I can't tell Warrick and therefore I can't lose twenty bucks."

"That's right." Making the final turn toward the crime scene, Sara summed up her thoughts. "Don't worry; Tawny can still be your Hot Stripper Girl, Greggy...in private. She just doesn't have to look the part when she's grocery shopping."

"Thanks for the talk," He said with sincerity. "I needed it."

"I'm always here to talk or answer your questions."

Her statement triggered one in particular and it slipped out of Greg's mouth with ease. "String or regular thong?"

After a wink, she informed him, "That's for Gil to know and you to speculate."

Dying of curiosity, he offered a suggestion. "Instead of that great gift you promised me for helping you get the book for Gris' birthday…just answer my thong question. Because we both know you'll be busy giving birth on my birthday."

Hoping he was right, grateful for his help, and knowing there wouldn't be any frivolity once they arrived at the scene, she granted his request. "I hope you can handle this, Greg. I'm wearing a Victoria's Secret Butterfly-back V-string ….a sexy little black panty with three fuchsia butterflies at the top of the string. You know…a little something special for _Entomologist_ Birthday Boy."

"I like the whole matching the underwear to the guy's hobby theme." A playful snicker tumbled from his mouth. "Very thoughtful."

"I thought so." Seeing the crime scene up ahead, Sara slowed her vehicle and looked for a place to park. "Okay…let's get in and out of here with no drama, shall we?"

"Amen, Sis."

Opening her door she guffawed, "How can you refer to me as your sister after asking about my panties?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "I blame the Inner Scandinavian Redneck in me."

**Dr. Myers Office  
****8:55 a.m. **

For the past hour, Bev Sanders sat in the waiting area of the doctor's office absently flipping through magazines trying to block the stressful thoughts attempting a coup in her mind.

At the moment, her son was wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a gun in the worst part of the city while investigating a gang-related murder. It was a far cry from what she always imagined him doing… prestigious medical research in a renowned lab and ultimately finding a cure for cancer. Then again, with help of a little metaphorical thinking, she realized she wasn't that far off. Crime is a cancer, she convinced herself, and Greg is working in one of the best labs in the country trying to put a stop to it.

One difference she couldn't rationalize away. Her only child wouldn't be wearing a vest and sporting a pistol if he was working in cancer research. He was her miracle, the one baby she carried to term and his loss was unthinkable.

When her mind wasn't preoccupied with her son's safety, it focused on Tawny. It would have been so much easier to find Tawny a wholly unlikable liar…nothing more than a sleazy bimbo who trapped Greg, treated him horribly and maybe wasn't being truthful about the baby's paternity. It would have been all Tawny's fault and her son nothing more than a gullible pawn in her game.

Her findings couldn't have been more contrary. Tawny was a sweet misguided young thing, grateful for a new, normal life and happy to be Greg's loving and attentive significant other. And even though Tawny entered Greg's life in an unconventional way, she couldn't have been more grateful for her arrival.

Bev Sanders always knew one day she'd ultimately lose her baby boy to someone else, 98 percent of the time she believed it would be a woman.

When she imagined the woman capturing her boy's heart, she always envisioned a nightmare. The woman was always unsuitable for him…too unappreciative of him and his quirks. Someone who would try and forcibly change him, like her husband had been guilty of from time to time. During these nightmares she felt the pain of standing on the shore helplessly watching her son be swept further and further away. Certain, the new woman in his life would impose distance between him and his family. Brainwashing him to ignore his mother's pesky weekly calls and convincing him that visiting California a few times a year was too much. The bitch of these nightmares was a cold, ruthless creature and Bev dreaded the day her son's loss to someone else would switch from harrowing fantasy to reality. She dreaded it, until she met Tawny.

With Tawny she knew the nightmare would never happen and for a very good reason. For as much as Tawny needed Greg in her life, she desperately needed something else…a mother's love. For her son, it was a match made from a reckless mistake. For Bev, it was a match made in heaven. Tawny needed a mother and Bev, after losing two baby daughters, was ready to have one to love.

When Dr. Myers's door opened, Bev tossed her magazine and stood. "Where's Tawny?" She asked the doctor standing in the doorway wearing a stunning peach chenille suit.

"She's in the patient exit room, Mrs. Sanders." Dr. Myers motioned for her to follow her down the hall. "If a patient needs a little private time after a session, she can sit in the exit room and compose herself before stepping outside. There is door leading from my office and there is also a door here." She stopped in front of door labeled, '_Private - knock before entering'_.

Never having been to a therapist, Bev found it quite intriguing. "It's a very considerate idea."

The doctor smiled, "If you don't mind, Tawny asked for you to join her."

"Certainly."

After a quick knock, Dr. Myers said, "Tawny, Mrs. Sanders is with me. Can I open the door?"

The reply came instantly. "Yes."

"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sanders." The doctor shook her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, my nine o'clock is waiting."

"Thank you." Anxious to fulfill Tawny's request, she opened the door. "Oh, Honey…"

Sobbing into a pile of tissues, Tawny pleaded, "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course, Dear." Bev shut the door, dropped her purse and hurried over to the distraught girl. "Anytime."

"Thanks." Her sobs slowed as she savored the loving embrace.

Reaching out, she sympathetically asked, "What happened?" Then she realized she may have overstepped a boundary. "I'm sorry…that's not really appropriate for me to ask."

"It's okay," She sniffled. "Your visit…it brought out a lot of stuff…it's been really hard. I mean not you…but…seeing you with Greg and how much you love each other…it makes me miss my dad and….makes me hate my mother even more."

Feeling Tawny tremble in her arms, Bev probed, "Why do you hate your mother, Sweetheart?"

Tawny let the whole heartbreaking story flow along with her tears…her happy childhood cut short by her father's untimely death and her mother's twisted boyfriend. How she ran away with an unsavory character and her subsequent introduction into the seedy nightlife of Vegas. She detailed her years of searching for a better life, always in the wrong places…with the wrong guys and the lies, the temptations and the abuse she experienced along the way. Then she spoke of Greg and how they met and why he was different from all the rest.

Thirty minutes later, while Tawny used the restroom, Bev appreciated the privacy of the patient exit room to compose herself.

When Tawny emerged, her face washed of all make up, she said, "I'm doing much better now."

"Great," Bev replied in a feigned cheerfulness, while wishing she could say the same about herself. "I had an idea while you were in the restroom." Standing up, she took a cleansing breath. "You said you were happy to be getting a chance at a new, more respectable life."

"Yes." Picking up her hot pink fur-trimmed purse, she smiled appreciatively.

Throwing her arm around Tawny's shoulder, Bev asked, "Have you ever seen those makeover shows on TV?"

"I love them!" Her catharsis behind her, Tawny's natural zeal was returning.

"I'm thinking…" Bev removed her arm from around Tawny and opened the door. "…you need a new look to go with your new, more respectable life. A look more befitting of a college student and a CSI's significant other. I'd like to sponsor it…take you to the salon and a shopping spree. I'm talking the works…spare no expense. Are you game?"

"Are you kidding!" Bursting with excitement, she blurted, "Yes! Oh my god, this is like Pretty Woman, but without me having to sleep with anyone to get the nice hair and clothes." Then she rethought her statement. "Well, since my sleeping with Greg and getting pregnant is the reason for knowing you, I guess that's not really true."

Bev assured her as they left the office, "I'm not doing this because you slept with my son and are having his baby. I'm doing this because I want to help you, Tawny. Because I care."

In the parking lot, Tawny took Bev's hand and softly said, "Lots of people at the lab said you were a real hard-ass, but I think you're one of the nicest people I've ever met in my entire life. If against all odds the baby isn't Greg's and he, understandably, can't stay with me, I want you to know, I won't just miss him, I'll miss you too. But I'll always be grateful that I got to meet you and have these couple of days with you. I know I'll be a better person for it."

Bev gave her hand a squeeze, "Sweetie, I'll _never _lie to you. I can't speak for my son because frankly, after some of the things you told me, I'm not sure how well I really know him anymore. I don't know how Greg will react if the baby isn't his, but I can promise you this…no matter what happens, if _ever _you need me, you can call. Do you understand?"

Overwhelmed by the commitment, she could only nod.

Pulling out Greg's car keys, Bev unalarmed the pricey vehicle. "Now let's go spend some money. That always cheers me up." Remembering Tawny's reference to Pretty Woman, she said, "Do you want me to make the sales clerks suck up to you?"

"No," She giggled. "Well…only if they're snooty." With that, she hopped into the car.

Sliding behind the wheel of her son's brand new and entirely impractical car, Bev remarked, "Greg's going to need a different car because this one is certainly not baby-friendly." Turning the ignition, she revved the motor. "I may have a buyer for it."

"Really?" Tawny inquired as she buckled up. "Who?"

Slipping on her designer shades, Bev backed out of the parking space smirking. "Me! The kids at school will think I'm da' bomb driving these wheels. Don't you think?"

"Totally!" Tawny confirmed while she fell a little harder for Greg's mom and risked a little more of her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 4"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****Salon Simone  
****9:46 a.m. **

Upon spotting an upscale salon a few blocks from Dr. Myers's office, Bev parked her son's car in a space directly in front of the shop's window and instructed Tawny to wait for her while she checked appointment availability.

Much to Bev's delight she was informed it was a slow summer morning in Vegas and the new salon wasn't receiving much traffic, therefore, there was plenty of time to give Tawny the royal treatment.

After retrieving her son's significant other from the car, Bev clarified expectations with Simone Ferrar. Simone, the salon's owner was a stunning thirty-five year old and a former Miss USA contestant, as evidenced by her photos displayed in the lobby. She and her salon had just the right amount of sophistication and glamour that was needed to work the magic Bev had in mind. "Simone, this lovely young lady is Tawny Cooper. Tawny needs a fresh look because she's starting college and dating a handsome and intelligent young man with a very important job…who also happens to be my son."

"Hi, Tawny." Simone warmly greeted the giddy girl with a handshake. "You're absolutely stunning. It will be my pleasure working with you. And if your boyfriend has his mother's features, I imagine he's quite a catch."

Tawny was quick to end the speculation. "He's absolutely adorable and yes, he has his mother's looks!"

"You two!" Bev laughed at the comment then sobered. "But seriously, Greg does take after me."

"Greg is it? That's a nice name." One look and Simone knew Tawny's real story…the fluffy hair, big enough to cover the D cups the petite perfectly tanned girl didn't grow on her own, the lengthy diamond-studded nails, the revealing clothes, the hot pink heels, the furry purse and the biggest clue…the trendy but conservative boyfriend's mommy footing the bill. Yep…this girl was pregnant with Greggy's baby and the future mother-in-law wanted the little darling to pass for a stylish student, not a lucrative lap dancer. "Let's see…" Simone circled her prey and made the one statement she knew would confirm her suspicions. "I'm thinking we'll color treat…"

"I can't color my hair until I finish my first trimester," Tawny immediately answered.

Simone placed her hands on the naïve girl's shoulders and sweetly proded, "Don't you mean _semester_, college girl?"

"Oops." A blush enveloped her cheeks.

Bev couldn't help but smile. "She's very conscientious when it comes to the baby's health and I'm grateful for that. And she really is attending college…online classes through Community College of Southern Nevada. Eventually she'll transfer to UNLV."

"Tawny, Honey, it's okay." Simone waltzed over to her station waving for them to follow. "Look at this beautiful photo of my son. He'll be fourteen next week. He's the best accident that ever happened to me." Patting her chair, she said, "Take a seat and we'll consult for a few minutes." Motioning for Bev to step closer, she winked, "You too, Grandma."

Without hesitating, she approached, "That sounds so scary…yet so exciting."

Fluffing out Tawny's wild mane, Simone narrowed her gaze and set her imagination to work. "You've had one too many perms and because of the pregnancy, we can't use relaxing chemicals to straighten it. Hmm…if we go with some natural products and deep condition, then lose oh…about seven inches…taking it a few inches below the shoulder." Working her fingers through blonde locks, she continued her vision. "I'll add in some nice layers so you can get funky and flirty, but still smooth it for an elegant look or work it into a fun or sexy up-do depending on your mood…or Greg's." Simone winked at Bev, "Sorry, Mom, but we have to keep our options open…a style that works in the classroom _and_ in the bedroom."

"Hey…it's no longer a shock." She tossed her arms in the air while chuckling, "Yeah…nothing makes a mother accept the fact that her baby boy is sexually active more than the knowledge he got a girl pregnant." Groaning, she added, "Also makes a mother realize her son is actively stupid on occasion."

Simone laughed with the endearing woman who obviously knew how to roll with the punches. "Okay, it's time to get to work…Tawny, The Extreme Makeover is about to begin."

**North Las Vegas**

**9:52 a.m. **

In a nasty part of town, in a rundown house with no working air conditioning on a 110 degree day, Sara continued processing while David Phillips packed up his supplies.

Pleased with Greg's handling of his assigned tasks in the house and his iron-gut tolerance of what was left of the victim's obliterated skull and brain, Sara had sent him outback a few minutes ago for some air and perimeter combing.

"Too bad they can't bring in a fan for you, Sara," David commiserated as he was finalizing for the body's removal. "You've got hours to go in this rancid room."

"Yeah…but blowing the evidence around won't make it go faster." Tape lifting the carpet, she sighed, "Anyway, the atmosphere will improve once you get the rotting corpse out of here."

"Oh good…the rotting corpse _is_ here," Grissom cheerily announced as he stepped into the room. "Now I know I'm in the right hell hole."

Snapping her head toward the direction of the out of place voice, she grimaced.

"Happy to see me?" Gil asked his wife while masking his relief at finding her safe and knowing she wasn't amused.

"What are you doing here?" She wasn't in the mood to be babysat, no matter how good his intentions…and she exactly what his intentions were. For a moment her mind flipped back to his sudden appearance that doomed day on Dales Trail when he was certain she was pregnant from their dalliance in San Francisco.

_Pulling his CSI ball cap out of his back pocket, Grissom put it on Sara's head. "It's getting sunny. Promise me you'll stay hydrated." Then he produced a Power Bar from his shirt pocket. "To go with your coffee. I noticed you didn't eat anything all night."_

"_So protective." Her heart soared._

"_It's primal instinct now." He grinned as he stood. "You know…preservation of the species."_

"It's happening again, isn't it?" Yes, she was certain he was going into preservation overdrive and she couldn't imagine living like this for nine months. "Don't you realize this is a bit extreme?"

"What?" He innocently replied while knowing exactly what she was implying. "I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean."

David kept busy while enjoying the banter. It was nice to be the outsider for a change rather than the husband in the line of fire. It was also intriguing because other than their amorous declarations and passionate kiss shown on the ten o'clock news, he had never seen Sara and Grissom in their spousal roles.

"I'll give you the first word," She sighed, "It's what we do at a crime scene…preservation."

Ignoring his wife's accusation, Grissom casually explained, "I was on the way home and thought I'd stop by."

Seizing with laughter after Grissom's lame lie, David let it slip, then quickly apologized, "Sorry..."

"That's okay, David, it was laughable." As she resumed tape lifting, she announced, "I think I should have gotten my husband a new GPS package for his car for his birthday because it's apparent his current one has a glitch. We live due _south _of the lab, but somehow he ended up _north _on his way home." Glaring at her meddling man, she snipped, "For an observant guy like you, I would expect the lack of million dollar homes to clue you in that you were in the wrong 'hood."

"You misunderstood. I was on my way home, but decided to turn around and come here instead." Kneeling beside her, he smugly said, "In my new position as Master Criminalist I can insinuate myself into any case for the good of the lab."

"You don't officially start your new position until Monday," She smartly reminded him before unleashing her wrath. "And what brilliant insights for the good of the lab were you hoping to glean from this case, _Master_?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "The vic's head was blown at close range…whoa…wonder how he died? David, any thoughts?"

"Oh no." He vehemently shook his head. "Keep me out this, please. Three's a crowd…well, not for some people in this town, but definitely for me."

Before Grissom could speak, Sara spouted off at him. "Where the hell is your vest and weapon? Please tell me you didn't park your Mercedes down the block and walk in here unarmed when you _know_ there could be gang retaliation for this killing any minute? The DB was a key player in the Varrio 12 and the word is out. His chola was out front bawling her eyes out and screaming for revenge…" In disgust she added, "…while she was clutching their two month old son…it was quite touching."

Losing his cocky tone, Gil replied, "Look, I only wanted to…"

"It's not like this is the first time you've not thought of your safety. Syd Goggle anyone?" Jumping to her feet, she cut him off. "The next time you feel the urge to insinuate yourself into a case for _the good of the lab_, do _the lab_ a favor and think first, because _the lab_ won't be very happy to learn you've been shot dead on the street!"

"So busted," David muttered as he glanced over at his co-worker. "I know I said I wanted to stay out of this, but, Grissom, since you're a newbie, I feel obligated, out of the brotherhood of husbands, to tell you this is a good time to utter those two famous words _every_ wife wants to hear…_Yes, Dear_."

Taking the more experienced man's advice, Gil flashed a smile in his wife's direction. "Yes, Dear."

David nodded approvingly. "Very nice…just the right amount of sincerity without sounding totally whipped." He chuckled. "Yeah…now that my wife is seven months pregnant, I'm saying those two magic words about every ten minutes. Sara heard me say it twice on my cell phone since we've been here." Standing up, he grabbed his case. "I'll be back for the DB in a few." And on the way out of the room he pleaded, "I'm busy enough already today, Sara, so try not to kill your husband. After all, he's just worried about you. There are much worse offenses."

Once David was gone, Sara sneered, "So much for you being The Bluff Master. David read you like an open book."

"Look, I…"

From outside, they heard Greg forcibly command, "Stop! Alto! Hands up! Manos arriba! Pronto! Sara! I need backup ASAP!"

Pulling her weapon, Sara ordered Gil, "Get help from out front then take cover!"

Procedure overruling emotion, Gil raced to the front of the house to alert the officers guarding the crime scene while Sara ran in the direction of Greg's panicky voice.

Once at the backdoor, Sara cautiously surveyed the situation. Greg was ten feet from the door with his weapon aimed at a teenage boy dressed in Varrio 12 fashion.

"Orale Chota!" The boy yelled while following Greg's instructions. "Hands are up and I'm not strapped!"

Her eyes scanning the yard for movement, Sara, with her weapon pointed at the teen, eased her way over to Greg's side and once there, her concern mounted. "You see his hands up, right?" When he didn't answer, she prodded, "Greg! You see his hands are up, right!"

"Yes," He finally answered as sweat poured down his face. Memories of Dales Trail plagued him…the images, the smells, the sounds. From that experienced he learned that in a blink of an eye everything can change and a moment's hesitation may cost you or someone else her life. "He doesn't have a weapon out," He stated in an effort to convince both her and himself.

Uncomfortable with Greg's twitchy body language, Sara gave another order. "I've got my weapon on him so you can stand down, Greg. Now, Greg!"

The teen broke his silence by yelling at Greg. "Vato Loco! You better listen to the puta…"

"Hey!" Sara barked at the teen once Greg lowered his weapon, "Keep your hands up and your mouth _shut_. On your knees _pronto_!"

As the cops flooded the yard and surrounded the teen, Sara waited for Greg to secure his weapon then tugged him toward the backdoor. "You okay?"

"Freaked." Breathing deep, he climbed the three stairs and retreated into the house with Sara behind him.

Gil was waiting inside as instructed and when he saw Sara and Greg return unscathed he started breathing again. "What the hell happened?" His eyes kept darting towards his wife to confirm she was really okay.

"Don't touch anything, Greg! "Sara warned when it looked like he was heading for the sink for some water.

"Sorry…not thinking," He replied in a pant as he paced the hallway. "I was casting a shoe print when that kid came flying over the block wall from the neighbor's yard. Next thing I know I have my gun on him."

"Nice reaction time," Sara complimented, hoping it would relax him. "You followed protocol and demonstrated a good command of the situation." She glanced at Gil, waiting for him to add something positive and hoping he wouldn't spout off about Greg being too shaky.

"Nice work, Greg." Gil stepped forward, cutting off Greg's pacing path. "You contained him. You prevented him from entering the house and surprising Sara as well as stopping him from contaminating the crime scene."

"I was shaking," He confessed while looking to his mentor for wisdom. "I was shaking with my finger on the trigger."

"But you held it together," Sara affirmed, knowing exactly what Greg was thinking. "You would have held it together even if I didn't show up. It was the first time you had to pull your weapon since Dales Trail..."

"Since I killed someone," He added while looking at Grissom. "That still haunts me. It was in my head…tweaking me."

"I know." Gil laid a hand on his shoulder, remembering to take a supportive approach with Greg. "It's normal. It wouldn't be normal if you killed someone and never thought about it again. That's what some of the guys we catch do, right? Like Sara said, you held it together and you were focused. You didn't do anything wrong, Greg. You were nervous, but it didn't influence your decision making skills." Looking him squarely in the eye, Gil said, "I'm not concerned. I'd send you out in the field with Sara again tomorrow."

Finally, with Grissom and Sara's confidence influencing him, Greg's mind calmed. "Right. Yeah. You guys are right. It's only the second time in my life I pulled a gun on someone, not that I'm hoping it becomes a habit. I did what I was supposed to do and it worked out. If there is a next time, it will be a little easier." Hands on his hips, he blew a heavy sigh. It surprised him how quickly he was able to shake off what just happened and move forward. "Well, this day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"That's supposed to be my line," Grissom smiled. "It's my birthday after all."

Rolling her eyes, Sara returned to the room she was processing. "Let's get back to work, Greg. You're in the room with me until we get an all clear from Vega. It will be fun, I'm going to make the birthday boy package all the evidence dripping with the vic's grey matter." Crossing her arms over her chest she postured in her husband's direction, "Unless you'd prefer to _insinuate yourself_ back home and enjoy the nice surprise I left for you on your pillow before catching some Z's…so maybe you're not spent for our special dinner this evening."

Knowing his presence was not required, he waved, "I'll see you at home, Sara. Where I'm sure we'll discuss this incident in great detail."

"Yep!" She concurred before yelling, "Officer!" When the uniform cop now posted in the hall entered, she politely requested, "Would you please give this unarmed CSI an escort to his vehicle please? Thanks. He promises to bring his weapon the next time."

"Sure thing," Officer Muniz, nodded. "Follow me Mr. Grissom."

As Gil left, David returned with the stretcher. "Did I miss anything?" He teasingly queried of Sara as he readied to transfer the corpse.

Greg responded as he grabbed an evidence bag. "Uh yeah! I nabbed one of the DB's homies jumping into the yard and probably saved your life." Locking eyes with Sara, he said, "But once I subdued him, I let the cops take over because I've got important stuff to handle in here."

"Yeah, I heard about that out front, nice work, Greg." David chuckled, "But what I was really asking was, what did I miss between Grissom and Sara? Because I just saw him being shown the door."

"Ah…" Greg found his smile once more. "You missed the Sara Sidle Smackdown. You may not believe this but, she's the most commanding dominatrix in town."

David chuckled as he prepped the stretcher. "Really? Even better than Vegas' famous Lady Heather?"

Greg and Sara exchanged devious grins as they simultaneously answered, "Hell yeah."

**Salon Simone  
****11:12 p.m. **

Tawny's hair turned out just as lovely as Bev imagined, and now that her lethal-length hot pink tips had been replaced by acrylic fills of respectable size with a demure French polish, the end result was becoming more apparent. Once the mini skirt, tight black shirt and CFMs were exchanged for more tasteful fashions, she was confident the makeover would be a smashing success.

Bev knew this new fun and sophisticated look would also make the Labor Day visit to California much more pleasant for Tawny. With her new style she wouldn't receive disparaging looks or be at risk of snide comments from some of the country club's more conservative members. It would also make things easier for Greg when he dropped the bomb on the one critical person who was still in the dark…his father, Bev's husband, Dr. Scott Sanders. Bringing home a girl who looked like marriage material instead of _magazine _material would definitely soften the blow.

Sitting side by side enjoying French pedicures, Tawny and Bev continued their bonding session over caffeine-free mocha lattes which the shop's receptionist had fetched for them.

Blissful from the foot massage she just received, Bev asked her potential daughter-in-law, "Have you and Greg discussed baby names yet?"

Buzzing from the day of salon pampering and motherly care, Tawny's voice brimmed with happiness as she eagerly fielded the question. "Yes, Dylan if it's a boy. If it's a girl, Haleigh spelled h-a-l-e-i-g-h, instead of the more traditional h-a-l-e-y. Oh, and if it's a boy, he gets Greg's middle name…Hojem and if it's a girl she gets my middle name, Ann."

Bev tried them on for size. "Dylan Hojem Sanders or Haleigh Ann Sanders." Smiling, she glanced over at Tawny, "I love them both, but I'm rooting for a little Haleigh."

"Me too!" Tawny agreed, but then quickly clarified, "Well, a healthy baby of course is the most important thing…and a _Sanders_ baby! But after that, a girl would be wonderful. Then when she gets older, we can bring her with us to have her nails done too!"

It was another one of those moments where Bev realized how surreal everything was and how young and candid Tawny is…to a fault. That was something she wasn't sure she could makeover by the Labor Day festivities at the country club.

"I think our baby will have brown eyes because Greg and I both have brown, and you have brown, my dad had brown too. What color eyes does Greg's dad have?" She sweetly asked.

The real answer…_red._ If Tawny shares with the entire country club, of which 98 are David's dental clients, the dubious 'we met while I was stripping at Tweeters, had unprotected booty-call sex and Greggy got me pregnant', story. "He has brown too, Dear," She replied, through a nervous smile.

**The Grissoms'  
****11:22 a.m. **

After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, Grissom headed for the bedroom and the surprise that Sara had mentioned she left on his pillow.

Although he was looking forward to the surprise, he was preoccupied with the pseudo-discussion he and Sara had at the crime scene. She was right. The same fear was surfacing. The fear of loss…_double_ the loss.

Upon entering the bedroom, he was reminded of the last time the issue surfaced. That frightening day when he found himself sitting on the edge of a hospital bed looking at his wife's battered face and abrasion covered arms.

_His emotions getting the best of him again, Grissom sadly said. "During this study I've been focusing on whether or not I was strong enough to be a father and have a child with you. I never thought to ask myself if I was strong enough to survive losing a child." His voice cracked. "After today I know I'm not strong enough to lose you. I don't think I can do it, Sara. I really don't think I can take the risk. I'm sorry."_

"_Could we let some time pass and see?" She asked in a hopeful tone. "Right now I think we're a little too emotional to make a decision."_

_In a weak voice, he asked, "You want to keep the study going?"_

"_Yes." She replied confidently while bringing his hand to her heart. "Can you do that for me?"_

"_Yes."_

Sitting on the edge of their bed, Grissom gulped some water and steadied his nerves. Tomorrow was Thursday, which meant he had a session with Dr. Myers and for the first time, he knew exactly what he wanted to discuss. He planned on marching in, sitting in a chair and saying, 'How the hell am I going to cope with my wife's pregnancy when thoughts of losing her and the baby start plaguing me the minute I think she could be with child?'

And while he wanted to sit and continue the agonizing debate with himself, his eye caught the glimmer of a silver bow on a package wrapped in blue paper and turned his attention.

After donning his glasses, he reached over and plucked the white envelope attached to the top of the gift. His lips immediately curved into a smile. It was one of Sara's famous notes. And as his fingers extracted the card, all the troublesome thoughts retreated and he lost himself in her words.

_Dear Reluctant Birthday Boy, _

_For the first time in my life I have someone special to spoil on his birthday and I intend to do just that, thanks for relenting. I have four gifts for you…one sentimental, one practical, one nostalgic, one personal, and I will give them to you in this order. _

_This first gift, the sentimental one, was inspired by something a little birdie (Latin name: Gregus Sanderus) told me about you earlier in the week. The moment I heard about it, I thought of a frabjous birthday gift idea!_

_(Side note: I was shocked, but very happy to hear you shared some personal information with Greg. It's proof positive that therapy is working and you are keeping your promise to open up. Nice work!). _

_Any ideas what might be in the box? Come on, take a guess. _

_Love, _

_Sara, the mysterious gift giver_

Setting the note on the bed, he picked up the package. "I know exactly what this is," He remarked as if she were there to hear. "You bought me a copy of Through the Looking Glass and you no doubt highlighted the word 'frabjous' to commemorate our Scrabble game."

When he pulled the lid off the box he saw another wrapped box inside with a note attached and hurried to read it.

_My curious husband, _

_I bet your guess was that I bought you a copy of Through the Looking Glass as a sentimental reminder of our Scrabble game in Tahoe. _

_Open up the package and see if you're right. _

_Your all-knowing wife_

Chuckling over her second note, he tore the paper off the package and revealed an antique copy of Through the Looking Glass with a note rubber-banded around the book.

_To the man I love, _

_Even if you guessed correctly that it would be a copy of Through the Looking Glass, don't be too full of yourself. Don't even be pleased with yourself if you specified an antique copy. Why? Because this is no ordinary antique copy, it's quite special…sentimental in fact. Open the cover and find out why. _

Curiosity killing him, he flipped open the book and when his eyes recognized the words he gasped. "How…"

_**Dearest Jillian,**_

_**Like Alice, never be afraid of experiencing a little adventure.  
And if ever you find you can't experience one first hand,  
you can always open a book and get carried away.**_

_**Love, Grandma Erin and Grandpa Owen**_

With haste, he grabbed the cordless phone from his nightstand and punched in Sara's cell phone number. Clutching the book, he circled the room analyzing how she could have obtained his mother's book.

"I see you're calling from home," She answered. "Have you opened your gift?"

"How?" Was all he managed to blurt.

"Remember…I have a Ph.D, an IQ of 146 and I'm a CSI…it's a powerful combination." She chuckled sweetly. "Greg said you donated the book to a local library. Because I was sick with the flu, he offered to do the research for me. I gave him the address of your mother's old house and he determined the libraries within a certain radius. Then he handed everything over to his mom…"

"That's why she's here?" Grissom quizzed as he dropped onto the bed overwhelmed by his wife's extreme orchestrations and the book itself.

"Well, sort of, she brought the book, but she could have Fed Ex'd it. She's really here because she was dying to meet Tawny. The book was an excuse to fly out."

Opening the book's cover once more, he ran his fingers over the inscription. "Honey, I'm stunned by the gesture, thank you."

"Good…that's exactly the effect I was going for. Anyway, to finish answering your question… Greg also said you told him there was an inscription in the book to your mom from her grandma. So, when Greg's mom called around, she asked the libraries if they had an antique copy of the book and if so, did it have an inscription perhaps containing the names Jillian or Cleary. It didn't take as long as we thought and Bev drove out and picked up the book. Oh…one more thing, I had faxed a letter to Greg which he forwarded to his mom to give to the library if she should find the copy. A donation letter promising to give $5,000 in exchange for returning the copy to its original owner's family. $5,000 is the going rate for a non-mint copy according to my research. They're going to use the money for new children's books. I thought you'd like that too."

"Unbelievable." He cradled the copy in his hand. "And I don't mean the _process _of obtaining it. I mean you and how lucky I am to have you as my wife." Sighing into the phone, he whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too."

In the background Grissom heard Greg yell, _I would have loved it if my mom had Fed Ex'd the freakin' book!_ "How nice, Greg's listening to you get mushy with me. I thought that was a secret side of you that only I can see and hear."

"Sorry," She laughed, "You're not the only one opening up and trusting people more. Earlier today I even described my underwear for him. But don't worry, Greggy won't tell a soul because he knows how to keep a secret…and if he tells, he'll owe Warrick and Nick twenty bucks each."

His brows knitting, Grissom groaned, "Excuse me?"

"Long story. Okay, I have to go now, Vega has some questions for us. Gift number two will be given to you this afternoon. It's the practical gift."

"Do Greg and his mother know about that one too?" He asked, half joking.

"Nope, but Wendy Blake knows about the nostalgic gift! Get some sleep Birthday Boy! Bye!"

After clicking off the phone, he tossed it onto Sara's empty side of the bed. What a difference a year makes, he thought as he remembered what he did for his birthday last year…nothing. And who he did it with…no one.

Once more he focused on the inscription, this time the names of his great-grandparents jumped out at him…Erin and Owen. Unexpectedly he started pondering if those might be nice names for a baby. Saying them out loud he gave tested their merit. "Erin Grissom…Owen Grissom." They sounded good and they both fit nicely with Gil and Sara…short, traditional names. He knew what Erin meant, Ireland. Owen's meaning was unknown though.

Spying Sara's stack of baby books on her nightstand, he rolled over and snagged the one that had the list of baby names. After a quick thumb through the pages, he found what he was looking for.

_Owen – born of nobility_

Upon reading the meaning, it struck him that Sara's name meant 'princess', a title of nobility. When the time was right, he decided he'd run it by her. For now, he'd keep it to himself along with all other hopes and suspicions regarding her possible pregnancy. Knowing Sara, she would be optimistic enough for the both of them so someone had to stay grounded.

**Nordstrom's  
****12:04 p.m. **

Flying high from her beauty makeover, Tawny bounded into the department store with excitement pulsing through her veins and Bev Sanders five feet behind her trying to keep up.

"Honey, how can you walk so fast in those high heels?" Bev inquired while she stared at the girl's sexy legs.

"Once you've been dancing on stage in stilettos for a while, you acquire really good balance and agility. You pick up speed from working the club floor." She paused at the bottom of the escalator to enthusiastically explain. "You see a big spender waving a c-note, you need to hustle to his lap before another girl."

"Ah." Bev desperately tried not to picture the scenario.

"Also, if you want to avoid a customer…you know, like a guy who reeks of his own body odor or a disrespectful pig who you're not in the mood to hear talk to you like you're a 'ho, you learn to move your ass to another part of the club and disappear quick." She winked, "You let the new girls service them and learn the hard way."

"Ah…I'm tracking you, Sweetie." Bev assured her with a nod and a smile as she motioned for Tawny to step onto the escalator.

"I was already great at balance when I first arrived in Vegas and started dancing at JJs because I took ballet for ten years. Started when I was three and didn't stop until I made the cheerleading squad." Smiling, she said, "Cheer skills helped my dancing career too. You know…the splits, the spread eagles and the..."

"Look we're here!" Bev exclaimed ready for a subject change. "I called my personal shopper, Ginger, at the Nordstrom's in Arcadia and she called over here to alert the personal shopping staff that we'd be coming. Trust me…they'll automatically suck up now that they've spoken to Ginger and know how much cash I drop shopping at Nordie's every year. They work on commission here."

At the concierge, Bev flashed her best 'I'm here to spend wads of money' smile and said, "I'm Bev Sanders. I believe you…"

"Welcome to Nordstrom's Vegas!" Susan, a customer-focused well-dressed forty year old shopping dynamo greeted. "Ginger told me you'd be coming in and ever since I spoke with her I've been anticipating your arrival."

"I'm sure you have." Bev dropped her arm around Tawny's shoulders. "This is my son's girlfriend, Tawny. She needs a wardrobe update."

"Hello, Tawny!" Susan shook her hand. "Wow! You're going to make my job very easy today because with a body like yours, I'd have to work very hard to find something that _didn't _look good on you. You're gorgeous. Your boyfriend is one lucky guy!"

"Thanks," She replied, happy with the compliment and thrilled with the level of sucking up.

"Here's the situation, next month for Labor Day weekend, Tawny will be visiting San Marino with my son, Greg. As is customary that weekend, we'll be spending a good deal of time at our country club." Giving Tawny's shoulders a reassuring squeeze, Bev continued, "While there is absolutely nothing wrong with this wonderful young lady, we all know how some people are…they judge books by their covers. I want to make absolutely sure Tawny fits in while in California and is given the respect she deserves."

"I'm tracking you," Susan nodded at Bev before turning to the concerned girl. "It's nothing personal, Sweetie. There's always a few caddy women in every crowd. They'd have a field day with you dressed like that, especially once they saw their men drooling all over you. Nothing prompts a caddy woman to enact revenge more than jealousy, and with your natural beauty...they have plenty to envy."

"It's okay. I'm ready for a fashion update!" Tawny enthused. "Now that I've met some of Greggy's friends, I realize my style is a little extreme for the crowd. They're all really respectable educated people. I don't want to change so much that I'm boring, but I want to fit in enough to not be the embarrassment of the group."

"Exactly!" Bev concurred. "I don't want Tawny's uniqueness to disappear, I just want her to get a fair shake…uh…I mean a fair chance to make a good first impression." Bev smiled proudly at her protégé then began downloading her mental list on the sales clerk. "Here's what she'll need. A casual colorful cocktail dress…something flirty and fun to show off her bubbly personality; a black cocktail dress… something that will leave the men quite appreciative of her beauty, but left guessing as to the intimate details; two bathing suits…both _boldly _taking advantage of her _ass_ets, but not obscene…no thongs." Chuckling she said, "I do have to think of my son's needs as well. He's been waiting forever to lie by the club pool with a beautiful girl at his side."

"Really?" Tawny joined in the laugh. "I'll be sure to shower him with _extra_ attention poolside."

Bev couldn't imagine what 'extra' attention would look like since Tawny seemed intently focused on Greg's needs already. Recalling the girl's former occupation she cautioned, "Just remember, Dear we don't want Greg pushed so far he'll be forced to walk with a towel wrapped around his waist to hide his _appreciation_."

Covering her mouth as she giggled, Tawny flushed with embarrassment. "Mrs. Sanders!"

Susan found the exchange highly amusing. It was nice to have a mother who was a realist in regards to her son's libido. Yep, one vigorous sunscreen application from the bodacious bikini-clad Tawny and Susan was sure any young man would be reaching for an appreciation-shielding towel.

Catching her train of thought, Bev said, "She'll also need various daywear and casual wear…all trendy and suited for a stylish grad student who has a penchant for the hottest brand names."

Susan's eyes widened as her pen filled her notepad.

"We'll of course need the appropriate shoes and handbags to match as well as costume jewelry. Afterwards, I'd like someone from the Bobbi Brown counter to do her make up so we know which products to purchase."

"Anything else?" Susan asked.

"Wow!" Tawny stood in awe of the driven and extremely generous woman at her side. "This is even better than Pretty Woman!"

Pleased to know Tawny was enjoying the experience, Bev continued, "We'll also need to spend some time in the lingerie department. She'll need some suitable sleepwear for her stay at my house. Also, for a little joke we're going to play on my son, I'll need her to have the most absolutely unsexy grandma nightgown you can find. Think you can handle it all, Susan?"

With the verve of a soldier on a mission, she promised, "If not, I'll die trying!"

"That's the spirit!" Bev took Tawny's hand. "Let's go shop till we drop."

"Can I pick out something for Greggy too?" Immersed in Pretty Woman nostalgia, she said, "Because in the movie, Vivian buys Edward a new tie. Do you remember the scene? Edward comes home and finds her _naked _except for tie?"

"Is that what you had in mind?" Bev casually inquired before flustering into a heavy blush. "I mean buying Greg a tie…not acting out the scene from the movie!"

"A tie would be perfect," She replied while trying to recall the exact line from the movie so she would be authentic in her delivery.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****2:45 p.m. **

After sneaking out of work earlier than normal, Nick dashed home to try and catch Carrie in the act of setting up his birthday surprise. However, instead of finding Carrie, he found his best black suit on the bed along with a new dress shirt, an Armani black silk tie with a refined white and grey micro-fleck design and a note card with the words…_Read Me_ printed on the front.

_Happy Birthday Nick,_

_As promised, I'm taking you on a trip…_

_A trip down memory lane. _

_First we're going to play dress up…_

_Then later, we'll dress down and play. _

_I suggest you take a power nap…_

_Because you'll need your strength._

_After you're rested, take a nice hot shower…_

_Or a cold one if your mind is racing._

_Then put on your suit, Smooth Stokes…_

_And meet me at the Eiffel Tower at eight sharp._

_I'm taking you to Paris, where it all began._

_I've already packed your overnight bag…_

_Not that you'll need much for what I've got planned. _

_Oh…the things I have planned. _

_I packed a bag for me too…_

_And it has something extreme in it for the Birthday Boy to enjoy._

_I'll give you two hints...leather and lace. _

_You'll get to choose the material and therefore the mood. _

_Au revoir, _

_Carrie_

"Hot damn!" Nick exclaimed as he tossed the note on the bed. "How the hell does she expect me to nap after reading that! Napping is the _last _thing on my mind right now." Frustrated, he checked his watch. "Five hours!"

Grabbing his cell phone, he punched in his fiancée's code.

"Carrie Blake," She answered in a business tone.

"Nick _Frustrated _Stokes here!" He gasped into the phone. "Baby, that's just cruel setting me up like this and making me wait five hours."

"You weren't supposed to be home until five-thirty," She replied with amusement in her voice. "It's not my fault you got off early." Cackling, she asked, "Did you enjoy my note?"

Shaking his head, he quipped, "Yeah…it has the drool stains to prove it!"

Mercilessly she said, "I'll see you at eight, Birthday Boy. Bye."

"Hey!" After throwing the phone on the bed, he headed to the bathroom, muttering, "I don't think a cold shower is gonna be enough."


	5. Chapter 5

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 5"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****The Grissoms'  
****2:58 p.m.**

After spending the day processing a violent crime in a sweltering house, Sara was happy to be home and was more than ready for a long soothing shower. Assuming her husband would be asleep, she stepped lightly into the bedroom.

Sure enough, he was in tucked in bed peacefully slumbering. Like most days when she found him, his glasses were still on and his reading material was lying on his bare chest. Today, his reading selection brought a satisfied smile to her face. It was his new/old copy of Through the Looking Glass.

As she always did when she found Gil in this situation, Sara snuck over, gently removed his reading glasses and set them on his nightstand. Next she took the book, mentally noting the page until she could find a suitable bookmark, and stowed it on the table as well.

Sighing with pleasure, she turned around and strolled in the direction of the bathroom, ready for the delightful shower she had been fantasizing about for the last five hours. Unfortunately, her fantasy was delayed when she tripped over her husband's misplaced shoes and went crashing to the floor…yelling a few choice words in the process.

Bolting upright in bed, Gil combed the room with his sleepy eyes. "Sara?"

"I'm down here," She announced as she picked herself up off the floor. "Guess whose shoes I tripped over?"

Busted for something for the second time that day, he quickly copped, "Sorry, I know you hate it when I kick off my shoes wherever I am."

"And now you know I'm not a nagging wife, but a safety girl." Vindicated, she scolded him with a smile. "For a guy who is sooo worried about me that he has to _insinuate himself_ at my crime scene, you have no problem putting me in peril at home!"

Lighting up with laughter, he raised his arms. "Manos arriba."

"You would also still be sleeping if you weren't a shoe slob."

"Come here," He directed in a husky whisper fueled by a desperate craving for her lips pressed to his. "I haven't had an official birthday kiss yet. We've been in the presence of co-workers or a DB all day."

"Sorry." Teasing him she brought her fingertips to her mouth and said, "My lips were bruised during the fall and aren't up to it. Your recklessness cost you. Maybe you'll think twice before kicking off your shoes next time." Turning her back, a smirk filled her face. "I'm hitting the shower."

Disappointed, he grumbled, "It's my birthday and I can't even get a kiss from my wife."

"Aww." With her back still to him she yanked off her shirt and tossed it. It's all about the tease, she reminded herself. And he still had no idea what she had been hiding all day under her conservative clothes.

Enjoying the tease and the enticing look of her black lace undergarment against her creamy skin, he cleared his throat and announced, "Don't you think that's a bit _reckless_…throwing your clothes on the floor for a guy to trip over?"

Her voice dropped to a sexy rasp. "Maybe I want a little revenge." In a painfully slow, exaggerated motion, she shed her jeans, revealing the scant Butterfly v-string underneath. Although she couldn't see her husband's face, she was quite certain she heard his eyelids snap up while his jaw dropped. "I'll be in the shower."

"Hey!" He yelled before she could take a step. "You said you had a…and I quote…very _innocent _day planned for my birthday."

Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she sweetly replied, "That's right. I gave you a children's book, didn't I? I meant what I said…innocent."

His mind and body ignited by the rousing visual and her coy tone, he blurted, "Innocent? You just _stripped_ in front of me to reveal that sinful little thong!"

"Sinful?" She gasped as she lowered her gaze trying to see her own ass. "What are you talking about? It has innocent little Lepidoptera on it." Barely a minute had passed and she had him squirming.

"Yeah! Lepidoptera flying right out of your beautifully bare Gluteus Maximus!" These sexy surprises of hers were always a pleasure, but today, on his birthday, it was icing on the cake.

Finally turning to face him, she struggled to keep a straight face. "I think when you turned 49 today you became a dirty old man."

"Really?" To prove her point, he let his eyes boldly roam her body, appreciating every curve and counting the seconds until his hands could replace his gaze. "Well…I suppose there are worse things I could be," He announced while grabbing her and tossing her on the bed. "And since I've been labeled, I figure why not live up to the expectation?"

Seized by hysterical laughter as he covered her body with hit and run kisses, she gasped, "You _specifically_ said after all the mandated baby making sex…and I quote…I don't want to make love on my birthday!" Although she knew for a fact, both then and now, he wouldn't be keeping his word.

"True! Very true." He responded when he came up for air. Then, with a devilish glint in his eye he informed her, "And I won't be going back on my word because I wouldn't classify what I'm about to do to you as _making love_."

"OH! I recant my previous statement. I don't think you're a dirty old man, I think you're a naughty little boy who thinks he can have whatever he wants because it's his birthday!" The frivolity was a welcome change of pace after all the forced fertility lovin' and she was relishing every minute of it. "You're definitely back in business, Honey!"

"Thank you. It feels good to be back…" As he deliberately pressed his body to hers, he impishly inquired, "…doesn't it…feel good?" The reaction in her eyes was better than words and he rewarded himself by snapping open the front closure of her black lace bra.

"Oh!" She shrieked with pleasure as he silently began coercing her into submission. "If you think that's going to change my mind…" As he ignored her words but not her body, she continued with an incoherent and fake plea to cease all activity. "Sorry…uh…no can do…have to shower…I have a schedule to keep…OH!…your next gift will…OH!…I have a delivery coming soon!"

Unable to let her last comment slide, he retorted, "What a coincidence…me too."

"Let me guess…" Her eyes flitted to his boxers. "It's a package."

"I know…you want it sent _express _because of your time constraints." Feeling like it was his 19th birthday instead of his 49th, he trapped her against the sheets with his heated body and rasped, "Don't worry, it's _my_ birthday so I don't feel guilty making it all about _me_, therefore, I'll make it a speedy delivery and you can keep to your schedule."

"Oh sure, NOW you'll be quick." Playfully, she smacked her palms against his chest, pushing him off her. "Where was this motivation on Sunday, Mister!"

"Speaking of motivation…" Flipping her on her belly, he tugged sharply at the line of butterflies on the g-string. "You weren't wearing these lusty Lepidoptera panties on Sunday. You had three sweatshirts and flannel pajama bottoms on instead." With both hands on her hips, he coiled his fingers around the stringy top strap. "Really, Honey…how many times do I have to tell you that men are biologically _very _simple creatures to understand?"

Shaking with laughter while he peeled the panties off her, she exclaimed. "Damn it! I had this thong in a bag in my closet on Sunday! Why didn't I think to put it on then!"

Dangling the snatched scrap of material for her to see, he teased, "Yes, what a pity…these red butterflies would have matched your inflamed nose."

When she saw him toss it to the floor, she seductively glanced over her shoulder and purred, "I hope you don't trip over that later."

"I'll be careful." He cautioned as he chucked his boxers in the same direction, "Now promise me you'll do the same about those."

Craning her neck to glimpse him instead of his discarded boxers, she responded in a siren's voice, "I don't know…I'm feeling a little adventurous."

"Good to know." After lingering sultry kisses up her back to ensure her body's compliance, he nibbled at her earlobe. "You still want to take that shower?" Caressing her deftly he taunted, "Go ahead if you want to because I know you're under time pressure."

Heated to an extreme, she whispered without a trace of conviction, "Such a risky bluff. I…I may have to call you on it."

Lacing his fingers through her hair, he swept it off her shoulders. "I don't think you will," He countered before burning kisses into her exposed neck.

Hypnotically, she gave her final answer. "No…I don't think I will."

Once again he was at her ear. "Busy girl…wanna race?" He couldn't remember the last time he uttered the phrase, but he figured it had to be five months minimum, back when she was finishing her Ph.D. and time was always a precious commodity.

"Mmm…we haven't done that in while," She moaned in approval as he continued to expertly explore. "It won't be very fair," She warned, as she did every time they had played this game. "You've given me too much of a head start." He always did.

"You know I'm old fashioned about certain things…ladies first." Then he announced with a cavalier flair, "Start your stopwatch."

"Go."

Five minutes and forty-nine satisfying seconds later, Sara pressed the stop button on her sports watch and murmured the customary, "Wham bam."

"Thank you, ma'am…" Gil exhaled as he dove into bed with a satisfied grin and rolled onto his back. "…for allowing me such an indulgence on this frabjous day…not to mention a nice trip down memory lane."

"It was my pleasure," She assured him while pulling herself further into bed. Sliding onto her side she watched her husband's rapid breathing steadily slow and decided a new tease was necessary. "Then again, maybe I was bluffing."

Glancing over at his playful wife he raised a brow and asked, "Hmm…that's a tricky one…how can I call that bluff?"

"You can't." Propping on her elbow she caught his eye and winked, "But I wasn't…and as always, it's nice to know that chivalry is not dead."

Reaching out, he tucked her mussed hair behind her ear while enjoying the glint in her eye and the blush on her cheeks.

"You know…" She ran her fingertips over his chest as she spoke. "If we weren't successful Sunday or Monday, I'm certain that today's hardcore Special Ops mission did the trick…even if we weren't in the optimal position."

"Really? We weren't?" He exhaled through a grin. "It seemed optimal to me."

"Shower with me?" She asked, while taking his hand, still eager to have him close, but suddenly conscious of the time and her schedule.

"Wait…" While recovering from the randy romp, a new mood overtook him. Pulling her closer, he gazed into her eyes. "We uh…skipped ahead and so…I'm still waiting for my birthday kiss." Running his fingers through her hair he studied her intently. "I've never had one before."

Melting into his eyes, she whispered, "I've never given one before."

"Nice symmetry." He waited with his lips parted.

Lightly, she caressed the words over his lips. "Happy Birthday, Gil."

Her sentiment touched off a new shudder in his body and he closed his eyes in anticipation.

With loving tenderness she moved her mouth over his, delighting in the moment's innocence and relishing the importance of being the one to bestow the first birthday kiss.

The velvety softness of her lips and the emotion she infused into the gesture overwhelmed him. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her close and deepened the kiss, extracting every bit of love he could before they needed to part for air. And when they did, he relied on their favorite quote to explain his feelings. "Love grows with every kiss." Breaking into a beautiful smile, he added, "Birthday kisses, as I just found out, are exponentially more potent."

Elated by the love flowing in her husband's eyes, she whispered, "I'm looking forward to my first birthday kiss next month."

"I've never given one before," He responded truthfully and mirroring her earlier reply.

"Nice symmetry."

Resting his forehead on hers, one word slipped from his lips. "Perfect."

**Greg's Apartment  
****3:32 p.m. **

Plopping down on the couch, Tawny heaved a sigh of exhaustion. "I think I finally understand the meaning of the term, 'shop till you drop'. Don't get me wrong, I had a wonderful time, but I'm beat!"

Bringing her a glass of ice water, Bev said, "You'll get increasingly tired over the next month or so, and then you should get some energy back in your second trimester." Handing her the glass, she copped a motherly tone. "Drink it all. Keeping hydrated is very important, especially in this dreadful heat. Thank goodness you'll have nice weather for your third trimester."

"Thanks." Immediately she gulped down half of the tall glass's chilly contents. "I've been meaning to ask, how are you going to explain all that shopping to Greg's dad?"

"He won't see the bill." Taking a seat, she tossed her feet up on the coffee table next to Tawny's. "We have a joint bank account, but I also have a personal one. The Nordstrom card is in my name only and I pay the bill out of my personal bank account."

"Why do you have your own account?" Tawny nosed. "Are you hiding something?"

Amused by the blunt question, Bev sweetly chuckled. "No, I'm not hiding anything. It's always a good idea for a woman to create a strong financial background for herself. I have a friend who was a stay at home mom her whole life. On her husband's forty-fifth birthday, he came home and announced without warning he wanted a divorce. The poor woman couldn't even get a credit card in her name because she had never established her own financials. Her asshole husband tried to get away with taking more than his share, but I hooked her up with a shark lawyer from our country club and she ended up getting more than she was entitled."

"How is she now?" Tawny asked, concerned for the total stranger.

"Married to the shark of a lawyer." Bev smiled wide. "I have an excellent reputation as a matchmaker. I've single handedly hooked up four teachers at the high school with their spouses."

"Do you think I'm a good match for Greg?"

Taking her hand, she soothed, "I think you're an excellent match. I love how you don't force him to be someone he's not…to lose his quirkiness." Then she groaned. "Well, I wish you had forced him to wear a condom that fateful morning, but other than that."

"I tried to force him to say 'I love you'," She confessed. "I've stopped that now. He needs to feel it, not just say it."

Patting her hand, Bev offered some insight into her son's mind. "Greg doesn't respond well to direct heavy-handed pressure. As a matter of fact, he's had some issues with his father and his boss because of it." Easing back on the couch she explained, "When he's forced, he tends to back off and doubt himself. He does best when he's supported and given a chance to get comfortable with something at his own pace." Wanting to give Tawny a ray of hope, she shared the silver lining. "The good news is, once he arrives at a decision, he throws himself in with two feet. Like his job, since becoming a CSI in January, he's kept plugging away at it even though it's much more difficult than the job he had and certainly less lucrative than jobs he could have with his intelligence and education. But he's passionate about it and when he's passionate about something, he digs his hooks in and hangs on for dear life."

Hearing his behavior explained brought a huge degree of relief to Tawny's mind. "I think I'm helping him with his job by supporting him at home."

"I know you are." Bev slid her arm around Tawny's shoulder and pulled her close. "You know what he said the day he told me about you? He said, 'Mom, I came home from the worst night on the job and Tawny encouraged me, and she held me, and just when I thought I'd never smile again, she got me to smile.'" It was a bittersweet thing to hear that morning when her son told her, because that used to be her job.

"He really said that?" Tawny asked skeptically while hoping it was true.

"Remember…I told you I'd never lie to you." Kissing the top of her head, Bev sighed, "You just keep doing what you're doing, Sweetie." After a few minutes of silence, she realized Tawny had fallen asleep in her arms. "I know my son," She whispered to the sleeping girl. "I think he already loves you, he's just not comfortable telling you yet."

**The Grissoms'  
****3:46 pm.**

Dashing out of the bedroom, Sara buttoned her jeans in haste. The tender birthday kiss she and Gil had shared ended up leading to an intimate conversation which delayed their shower long enough to really throw her off schedule.

Freshly showered, her wet hair dripped onto her red shirt leaving splat marks as she made a beeline for the front door. Once there, she swung it open and began apologizing to the burly men delivering 'the practical gift'. "Sorry…I uh…just got out of the shower and didn't hear the bell. Thanks for waiting."

"No problem," Ed, the owner of The Training Zone politely answered as he eyed the pretty lady standing in the doorway. "Why don't you show Irving and me where we'll be setting up the equipment?"

"Right this way," Sara directed as she walked down the hall and hung a left away from the bedroom-side of the house. "It's the second door on your left. The old treadmill is in there and you said you wouldn't have a problem taking it and donating it somewhere, correct?"

Ed nodded, "We're going to drop it off at Desert Hills High School after we're through here. The principal will send you a donation letter for tax purposes."

"Great." Anxious to dry her hair, she said, "I'll let you get to it then."

Halfway down the hall, she heard one of the men exclaim, "What the hell?" Turning on a dime, she yelled, "I said second door on the _left_. You opened the second door on the right, that's the bug room."

"I'll say. Seeing it bugged the crap out of me." Irving shook off his disgust and shut the door. "Haven't you people heard of Golden Retrievers?"

"Irving?" Gil greeted in a shocked tone. "Is that you?" It was hard to say for sure because the man was dressed in a white polo with The Training Zone embellished on the back and a pair of black pants instead of biker leather.

Irving thudded his 325 pounds of sheer muscle down the hall. "Yeah…it's me."

Sara glanced from man to man before saying, "And you two know each other how?"

"Anger Management," They replied simultaneously.

"Oh." Suddenly Sara was much less enthusiastic about having Ironman Irving in her home. "Um…"

Ed approached shaking his head. "Don't worry, ma'am. Irving doesn't really have an anger management problem. He goes to those classes to troll for clients. He's a personal trainer and has an arrangement with the class facilitator. He kicks business her way for her yoga center and in return she lets him sit in for free. You see, angry people often want to bulk up either because it will make them feel more powerful or they're afraid their annoying behavior will put them in a situation in which they could get their ass kicked if they can't defend themselves."

"Yeah…" Irving laughed heartily in Gil's direction. "Like your little pal with the stupid hair…prime candidate for a royal ass kicking."

"That's so Breakfast Club!" Sara blurted as she stared at the bulky anger-faker. "The rest of the kids are required to be there, but you go because you want to infiltrate the group."

Only a year older than Sara and an avid movie fan, Irving related to the generational reference. "Ally Sheedy's character…the recluse. She's only there because she didn't have anywhere else to be. Great flick."

Suddenly, this guy who could snap her like a twig in the blink of an eye, no longer seemed threatening and Sara relaxed her stance.

"Honey…" Gil finally got over the shock of seeing Irving in order to ask, "What are these men doing here?"

"Delivering _the practical gift_…" She happily informed him of the surprise. "A top of the line home gym complete with strength system, elliptical cross trainer, totally tricked out treadmill and free weights."

Irving jumped in, "Improving your strength might help you with that Anger Management problem you have. You know…you'll feel less vulnerable and therefore won't act out defensively."

Taken aback by the guy's assessment, Gil asked, "How do you know I don't go to Anger Management class to _troll _for crime suspects?"

Irving fielded that one without difficulty. "Because you were paying attention to the class content and not the participants. Plus, considering what you do for a living I figure you have a lot of pent up emotion."

"Very good." Gil was impressed with his observation skills.

Not missing a beat, the businessman in Irving asked, "Does that mean you'll hire me as your personal trainer?"

Sara gave him a push. "I won't be able to spot you if I'm pregnant because I could injure myself and the baby."

Just contemplating the idea made Gil's muscles ache. "How bad will you hurt me?" He asked the intimidating man looming over him.

"Bad enough to get the job done right." He laughed huskily. "But when I'm through with you, your wife will be so grateful she'll want to name the baby after me."

One glance at Sara, and Gil enthused. "Sign me up!"

**Greg's Apartment**

**4:04 p.m. **

Having prepped all the ingredients to make one of her son's favorite meals, chicken fajitas, Bev sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter reading the newspaper and sipping iced tea. With Tawny asleep, the apartment was quiet except for the slight hum of a ceiling fan and, after a whirlwind day, Bev was enjoying the tranquil summer afternoon. That is until her son came bounding into the apartment looking like he'd been hooked up to a caffeine IV drip for most of the day.

"I'm home!" He announced with zeal as he bounced over to the kitchen counter. "Where's Tawny? Is she in the bedroom? Where is she?"

"Shhh!" She scolded him while secretly enjoying his enthusiasm for his significant other. "Tawny is napping. She fell asleep on the couch and I managed to rouse her enough to walk her to bed. I wore her out shopping."

After a tumultuous day at work, Greg craved Tawny's supportive words and embrace. The news that she was unavailable vaporized his excitement. "Oh…"

"Gee…" Bev shook her head and smiled at her boy. "I guess you'll have to settle for a hug from me." Opening her arms, she welcomed him. "Remember how well my hugs used to work when you had boo-boos?" Teasingly she said, "Tell me where it hurts, Sweetie."

Accepting the invitation, he wrapped his arms around his mother. "No boo-boos…just a tough day at the office. It was a good day though…I didn't screw up anything. I uh…actually did real well." He felt it best to leave out the part about holding a gangbanger at gun point while he shook like a leaf.

"Good." While pushing her son out of her arms, Bev said, "Then I won't feel guilty about the can of whoop-ass I'm about to open."

"Huh?" He watched in horror as his mother's demeanor morphed from pleased to pissed in four seconds flat. "Uh…mom…you're scaring me with that look."

"Gregory Hojem Sanders…"

He knew he was in trouble when she included the middle name and suddenly he was wondering if he would be safer back in the 'hood with the Varrio 12 boys. "Uh oh."

"That's right." She patted the open bar stool next to her. "I have a few words for you."

"Just a few? Okay." Trying to remain optimistic, he slid onto the seat.

"Four words to be exact." Bev stared her son down with a smile before saying, "Booty call…donuts…pig!"

Horrified, Greg willed his pager to beep while saying a twisted prayer…please let the lab need me, no one has to die, make it a burglary!

"Who are you?" Bev asked in a voice filled with disgust. "I thought the son I raised had more respect for women!" Pulling back for a minute, she clarified, "Don't get me wrong, I'm no prude. I can handle the fact you had a night of reckless passion. I'm not a hypocrite. I steamed the windows of a car or two in my day. Hell, your grandparents were kicked out of Norway because your grandmother got pregnant before the wedding. That's not what I'm talking about here. The unprotected sex…the unplanned pregnancy…I can deal with those." Narrowing her gaze, she pointedly asked, "Can you guess what I'm having a _really _hard time understanding?"

Humiliation mounting, he turned his eyes to the floor.

Grabbing her son's chin, Bev made sure she had his attention. "What I can't understand, Gregory, is how you could go to that girl's apartment _every day_ for two weeks exchanging Krispy Kremes for sex and never ONCE consider she might have a soul…that she had issues…that she was human and deserved more than baked goods in return for her affection. My god, you have an IQ of 147, don't tell me you didn't THINK about these things. You were exploiting her and you knew it! You never left her apartment. You couldn't even indulge her with dinner and a movie! How long would you have kept it up if she didn't get pregnant?"

Shamed by the disappointment in his mother's eyes, he didn't know what to say, so he went with the old stand by. "I'm sorry."

"For what specifically?" Bev wasn't satisfied with the lame reply. "For taking advantage of a girl who had no self esteem left because she had already been a victim of child molestation, date rape and sexual exploitation in a magazine? For not wondering _why _a box of donuts and a little meaningless pillow talk made her day, when a regular woman wouldn't settle for so little? Come on, son…you have to give me a little more here."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he weakly replied, "I've already beaten myself up over all this so..."

"Did you come to any conclusions?"

"Not any that you'll like," He replied honestly while slipping off the stool and moving to the opposite side of the counter. "Not any I liked either."

"Try me." She hoped for a good explanation.

"We both know I wasn't exactly a ladies man in school…"

Bev bit her tongue so she wouldn't interrupt right off the bat.

"Remember, I warned you wouldn't like it," He prefaced, sensing she was already displeased. "It's stupid and shallow, but here it is…I scored a hot chick and she was into me, I didn't care to think any deeper than that." He waited for her to yell and when she didn't he continued, "It felt good. What happened for other guys all the time finally happened for me and I decided to enjoy it. All my life…prep school, college, work…Nick and Warrick getting amazing girl after amazing girl…hell, even Grissom got Sara after I tried for years to get her to see me. All these years, it _never _happened for me. First dates yes, a handful of second and third dates…but never a girl who fawned over me, a girl who lived and breathed to see me every day. Deep down I knew there had to be a reason it was so easy with Tawny but, like you said…I didn't ask. I didn't ask because I didn't want to know…because I didn't want it to end and I knew it would if I knew the truth."

Appreciating the truth if not the content of the reply, she remarked, "You were living out a fantasy at her expense."

"I'm not proud of it now, if that's what you think." With his arms crossed firmly over his chest, he said, "There are certain things you can never take back…obviously I can't take back having unprotected sex and getting her pregnant, but the funny thing is that's not what I regret the most now. Night after night, I sat in the break room at work telling my friends every last disgusting detail about her just to pump my ego. You know…it was the kind of stuff they shared with me about certain lascivious women over the years. I was thrilled to finally be the storyteller instead of the audience. Hell, I even embellished to make it sound even trashier."

The emotion in her son's voice was enough for Bev to soften.

"They're never going to forget the stuff I said." Exhaling sharply, he stared at the ceiling. "Because of what I said, every time they look at her, that's what they see first…they don't see all the wonderful things about her…and there are _so many_ wonderful things about her." His voice cracking, Greg confessed, "I know I can be a good father to the baby, I know I can be an attentive husband to Tawny…I know I can spend the rest of my life showering her with affection to make up for treating her badly those two weeks…I know I can do those things. But the one thing I can't fix…the thing I can't take back is _degrading her_ to people she has to face. She doesn't know what I said, and they would never tell her, but _I _know. She already worries my friends don't think she's smart enough or good enough and while she's worrying about that, I have to stand there knowing what I said about her to them…yeah…I regret that more than anything and it's something I can't fix. I just have to live with the knowledge of what I did to her."

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Bev quietly said, "Sounds like a punishment worthy of the crime."

"Yeah." One look at her and his watery eyes finally overflowed. "I never thought I'd disappoint you so much. Dad, yes…you…no. I'm so sorry."

"It's a lame, unacceptable reason for your behavior, son…." Standing up, she circled the counter for a paper towel off the rack. "…but it's understandable why you're a little screwed up." Wiping her soaked cheeks, she remarked, "Maybe I had a hand in making you this way…maybe I should have been harder on you instead of telling your father to ease up. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to send you to prep school so young. If you had more time to socially acclimate maybe you wouldn't have been so…oh I don't know…maybe if I had made you stay on the swim team like your father wanted…"

"Mom…" Reaching over, he grabbed a piece of paper towel for himself. "Stop, this has nothing to do with you or dad. I couldn't have asked for better parents or a more normal childhood. I know so many people who would have loved to be in my shoes as a kid. I see things on the job that make me grateful for the way I was raised every day of my life. And I wanted to quit the swim team and I wanted to go to prep school and I needed to skip grades or I would have been bored out of my mind. So I was a social misfit at times, my being a geek and missing out on the prom didn't entitle me to lose my sense of decency with Tawny. There's no deep psychological problem to trace back to you. It was one-dimensional self-absorbed disgusting behavior on my part and nothing more."

Not sure she felt exonerated, Bev kept dabbing her eyes and pondering the 'what ifs'.

"Shortly after the pregnancy shock I had this really good conversation with Grissom." Tossing his damp paper towel in the sink, he paused for a breath. "I was on this self-loathing spiral into hell…I even told him he should fire me because I didn't have the moral caliber for the job."

Her son's words snapped Bev away from her own thoughts.

"Grissom told me, 'the true test of my moral caliber isn't what I did _before_ Tawny told me she was pregnant…it's what I've done since'." Able to look his mom in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, Greg said, "I think I've done a really great job since. The values I've demonstrated, and the good decisions I've made…the important ones I'll be making in the future, they're all because of how well you and dad raised me."

Bev knew it was time to reach for another paper towel. Just to be safe though, she took two.

His voice growing stronger, Greg said, "I could have run from this, I could have said yes when she offered to abort the baby, I could have left her dancing and living on her own until the baby's paternity was proven. You're right, her self-esteem was so low she would have done anything I said and I knew that. I could have done any one of those things, but I _didn't. _I didn't because those weren't things the son of Bev and Scott Sanders would do." Smiling, he reminded her, "I always was a late bloomer, remember? I got it wrong for two weeks, but I got a wake up call, caught on and now…I'm doing things right."

"Now I need a hug," Bev exclaimed as she burrowed into her son's arms. "I love you, Honey."

"I love you too, Mom." He sniffled with her.

"Do you love her, Greg?"

Suddenly chuckling through the tearful moment, he asked, "Do you really think you should be the first to know the answer to that question?"

"No, I suppose not." She laughed at herself before turning to blow her nose. "But I want to be second. Yes…it's time for me to accept I come second now."

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some cold water on his face and toweled off. "Last time I recall us crying together, Skippy the Wonder Hamster died."

"You had to go and bring that up!" She felt another wave of tears. "That still breaks me up when I think about it. You cradling Skippy in your hands asking me to fix him and me having to tell you I couldn't." Cupping her palm, she brought a handful of cool water to her face. "That's better." She quickly blotted the wetness away. "Good thing I opted for the waterproof mascara today."

"Hey there!" Tawny called out from the bedroom door. "Greg, you're home!" She excitedly exclaimed, "I thought you said you would be working late because of Nick leaving early. I'm so happy you decided to come home. I missed you!"

Watching her son's lips spread into a brilliant smile, Bev was certain she saw the answer to her earlier question.

"You look…" He couldn't believe she was the same girl he saw this morning. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes…everything was different. "You look…so beautiful."

Her hands rushing to her hair, Tawny gasped, "Oh! That's right! You haven't seen the new me yet!" She spun around. "I feel ten times better about myself than I did when I woke up this morning! I feel like I could go to any college campus and blend right in. Do you like it?"

"Do I like it?" Rushing to meet her in the middle of the room, he enthused, "I love it!" After running his fingers through her silky golden hair he pulled her in for a delicious kiss. And when they parted, with his hands still gently cupping her face, he whispered just loud enough so his mother could hear, "I love _you_."

The three words ripped the air from Tawny's lungs, leaving her gasping for a breath.

Tucked in the far corner of the kitchen, Bev reached for another paper towel just in time to catch the first tear of _joy_ she shed today.

"You love me?" Tawny finally replied, hoping she wasn't still sleeping and dreaming. Catherine was right. To hear him say those magical words when they weren't prompted sent her mind reeling and her heart thumping out of control. "You _really _love me?"

"I love you," Greg stated with a little more conviction. Then, staying true to his goofiness, he asked, "I hope that's okay?"

Upon hearing her son's inane yet adorable question, Bev muffled her laughter with her crumpled paper towel. And just when she thought her son's cuteness couldn't be topped, she heard Tawny actually answer the silly question.

"Okay?" Bursting into a glorious grin, Tawny threw her arms around his neck. "Of course it's okay you big goofball! I love you too!"

Pleased to be privy to the special moment, but not wanting to outstay her welcome, Bev loudly cleared her throat before stating, "I'm going to head back to my hotel to freshen up for dinner. I'll be back in two hours to cook the dinner I prepped. _Two hours_…in case you were wondering how much time you have to _celebrate_ the milestone."

"Thanks, Mom..." Greg replied in a chuckle without moving his eyes off Tawny.

Before the front door closed, Greg dove in for another kiss.

"Say it again," Tawny breathlessly commanded. "Just one more time."

"I love you!" He boomed as he dropped onto the couch pulling her onto his lap.

She was surprised it could sound better than the first time she heard it moments ago.

Clasping her tight, Greg rambled as only a boy in love for the first time in his life can. "I _love_ how your eyes light up when I walk through the door. I _love_ how you listen to me and hold me after a long day at work. I_ love_ how perfect we fit together when we snuggle in bed. I _love_ waking up next to you in the morning. I _love_ that you love my hair when no one else does. I _love _that you love me just the way I am." After that one he felt compelled to kiss her again.

Now it was Tawny's turn to gush. "I _love _how I want to be a better person because of your faith in me. I _love_ how you listen to me and really care what I have to say even though I'm just an ex-stripper with a GED and you're Phi Betta Kappa. I _love_ how you look at me and see more than a nice rack. I _love_ that you took the time to ask questions and get to know the real me. I _love _that you saw things in me that no one else bothered to see."

"Wow…" Greg glanced over at the kitchen. "I really wish my mom had stayed long enough to hear you say those things!"

"She's coming back in two hours, I'll tell her then!"

Checking his watch, he announced, "One hour and fifty minutes now." Then he urged her to her feet and took her hand, leading her towards their bedroom. "That's hardly enough time! I've never made love with someone I said I love you to before and I'm dying to see how it feels."

"I assure you it feels fantastic!" Tawny confirmed with glee.

"Oh." Greg stopped in his tracks wondering how many guys she had told.

"I was talking about being with YOU!" She playfully shoved him. "I told you I loved you last week…and the week before that, remember?"

"Right…I knew that." His smile returned.

"You know what I'm dying to know?" She asked while unbuttoning his lime green shirt. "What it feels like to make love with a guy _who loves me_."

"You already know," He replied through a silly smile. "Because I've loved you for a while. I just needed a little time to get comfortable with _feeling _it before saying it."

"How do you feel now?" She inquired while slipping his shirt off his shoulders and planting a delicate kiss on his chest.

"Afraid I'm going to wake up."

**The Grissoms'  
****4:29 p.m. **

When Wendy, carrying a shopping bag, and Sean, holding his wrapped gift, approached the Grissoms' house they saw the front door was propped open and a burly man walking out.

"Who are you?" Sean inquired with wide eyes. Never in his life had he seen a man so muscle-bound and he couldn't imagine what he was doing at the Grissom's home.

"I'm Irving," He replied while stuffing his hands on his hips and pushing out his chest. "I'm Mr. Grissom's personal trainer."

Although analytical Sean had made some progress on his verbal-honesty blurting problem that Gil had warned him geeks were often pummeled for exhibiting…today wasn't one of those days. "Irving, you must be horribly inadequate at your job because Mr. Grissom isn't in very good shape. Perhaps you should consider a new career direction."

"Sean!" Wendy used her free hand to cover her precocious son's mouth. "Please forgive my boy, Mister…uh…Irving. He's uh…a little too…."

"Honest." Irving, a volunteer big brother to twin boys at the local Boys and Girls Club, cracked a smile. "Kids are nice that way. Yeah, I'd agree with you, Sean, _if _I had been working with Mr. Grissom for a while…the man's fluffy and probably can't run up a flight of stairs without panting, but he just hired me today. Give me a little time to kick his butt and then we'll see what you think about my job skills." After patting the boy on the head, Irving headed out to the truck for some more supplies.

"Sean!" Gil enthusiastically greeted as he reached the front door with Sara by his side. "We've been looking forward to your visit."

"Happy Birthday, Mr. Grissom!" Sean handed over the large box wrapped in white butcher paper with a hand-drawn red-flat bark beetle on the top.

Accepting the package with joyful expression Gil exclaimed, "Cucujus Clavipes!"

Wendy laughed, "Is that Latin for thank you?"

Sara patted her non-geeky friend on the shoulder. "No, that would be Latin for 'I'm such a bug freak I know that's a bark beetle drawn on the package'."

Sean quickly corrected the naïve woman. "RED FLAT bark beetle to be exact."

"Hey! Stop trying to out geek me." Sara teased her young brainy guest, "You're really letting that one extra IQ point go to your head. Well, your 147 doesn't scare me. I bet you don't even know what the word _frabjous_ means?"

Without hesitation Sean replied, "It's an amalgam of the words fabulous and joyful, first encountered in Lewis Carroll's, Through the Looking Glass in…"

"Okay, okay, you win!" Sara huffed as her husband stood next to her shaking with laughter.

"I am having the best birthday," Gil announced as he scooted his protégé into the house. "And I can't wait to open this box."

"Mr. Grissom, did you know that the male to female ratio for bark beetles can be as high as 60 females to 1 male?"

"Really?" He glanced back at his wife who was following behind. "Wow…I'm glad I'm not a bark beetle, because one female is more than enough for me to handle."

"Looks like someone doesn't want to see his 50th," Sara jokingly snipped as she breezed by the cocky birthday boy. "I have your favorite oatmeal cookies in the kitchen, Sean…not that you can have one after out-geeking me in my own home. Just kidding."

When the foursome reached the kitchen, Grissom placed the present on the counter and carefully removed the paper so he wouldn't harm the drawing. "I think I'll cut out this picture and hang it in my office."

"Really?" Sean asked, flattered that his mentor would bestow such an honor. "Thank you."

Wendy placed her hands on her son's shoulders and spoke to Gil. "You'll need to get used to it. Refrigerator doors and office walls tend to get blanketed with drawings when you have children in your life."

Sara glanced over at the fridge and its blank stainless steel door. "I'll get the scissors."

With a birthday boy smile plastered on his face, Gil opened the box and when he saw the gift inside he was moved beyond words. "I…" Carefully he removed the handcrafted diorama and set it on the counter.

Wendy was quick to explain. "Sean made that for a summer school project…one of those, 'when I grow up I want to be…'"

"You, Mr. Grissom," Sean beamed with pride. "I want to be a Forensic Scientist and an Entomologist just like you."

"Mr. Grissom has a new job title as of next week," Sara informed the two Blakes. "Master Criminalist. So shoot for that goal, Sean." Winking at her still stunned husband, she said, "Because he'll be ready to retire when you're ready to take over."

Gil stared appreciatively at the eviscerated baby doll covered in fake blood, slimy brown ooze and plastic bugs. "This is exquisite. Thank you, Sean."

Wendy, who was thrilled that she would no longer have to see the ghastly display every time she walked into Sean's room, looked to Sara and asked, "Please assure me that girls will be attracted to my son if he continues down this path."

To which she honestly replied, "I won't lie to you…it takes a special woman to love a geek."


	6. Chapter 6

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 6"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****Greg's Apartment  
****5:10 p.m. **

Enamored with the amazing woman in his arms, Greg wondered how three words linked together in a declarative sentence could make such an enormous difference. It wasn't the words themselves, he realized as he lost himself in the depths of Tawny's beautiful brown eyes. The words were only a catalyst.

Catalysts…as a Chemistry scholar, he had intimate knowledge of the subject.

In Chemistry, two molecules trying to bond but lacking the necessary energy will remain apart indefinitely. And while the molecules crave each other, and know that once they are bonded, they will be more powerful, try as they might, time after time, they can't come together.

But when you add a catalyst, something magical happens…

A catalyst causes an unexpected shift. Suddenly, the two weak molecules are drawn to one another in a way they never were previously. The attraction, once mild, becomes increasingly overwhelming and those molecules, rendered helpless from the catalyst's power, can't resist the undeniable pull as they are simultaneously pushed closer and closer to the brink of greatness.

Anxious for the merge, the molecules ride the final surge with wondrous anticipation until they are thrust full throttle into the final explosive reaction. A reaction so powerful, the molecules produce a cataclysmic burst of energy that eclipses everything else in their existence. In that blinding moment…in that brilliant blip that transcends time and space and logic, the molecules lose themselves and when they arrive bonded together on the other side of the reaction, they rejoice in the knowledge that they have _finally_ come together.

His breathing jagged and his body still trembling Greg declared to his panting lover, "We have…undeniable chemistry."

"I was thinking…mathematically…" Clutching her lover's shoulders, Tawny breathlessly replied, "…what a great example of… perfect symmetry."

"To me…chemically…" He grinned uncontrollably, "….it was spontaneous combustion."

**The Grissoms'  
****5:15 p.m. **

The searing heat off the stove burner signaled it was time for Sara to begin sautéing the onions for her casserole. It was the only step Wendy had instructed not to do in advance.

"I can't believe I screwed up on the planetarium times, Sara," Wendy apologized profusely while aiding her cooking pupil. "Now getting Sean out of here will be much harder. There is youth group at church tonight, but he never gets very excited about that."

"Why?" She curiously asked while darting the onions around the pan.

"He doesn't fit in with his age group and his brother is best friends with the Pastor's son so Sean feels like the odd man out _again_." She shrugged. "With Ryan away at camp though, he might be a little more enthusiastic."

"It's really no problem. Our dinner guest isn't arriving until 6:30. He had some business to handle so he asked if we could bump it a half hour later. Actually I'm _thrilled_ Sean's here keeping Gil occupied in the bug room. If he wasn't, my anal-retentive chef of a husband would be driving me insane."

Their laughter was cut short by the ring of house phone.

"Here…" Wendy took the wooden spoon from Sara's hand. "I'll sauté while you get that."

After wiping her hands on her apron, Sara reached for the phone. "Hello."

"Sara!" Carrie's panicky voice boomed through the phone. "I need a friend!"

"Hey, Carrie, what's going on?" The concept of having a close female friend was still relatively new to her, but as the months passed, Sara was increasingly grateful for the relationship…the first one of its kind she ever had.

Wendy grinned. "Is that my sister-in-law panicking over her big date?"

Sara nodded as she heard Carrie say, _You were right, Nick loved the note I left him!_ A wave of satisfaction flowed through her. "See, Carrie…people think I'm a prude, but I know what I'm doing." Then she remembered Wendy was five feet away and darted out of the room. "But don't you dare tell another living soul!"

"I won't." She chuckled, "And who would believe me if I did?"

"So true," Sara agreed while walking over to the patio.

"Anyway, you know me…I'm a perfectionist and I want to make sure this night goes well. But I'm getting cold feet about something. Hmm…how do I say this…I'm uh, rather predictable in certain areas of my life…not boring…just kind of…not adventurous."

Sara reined in her grin. "Did you get your special supplies?"

"Yes!" Her gulp echoed through the phone line. "I never in my life went into a lingerie shop like THAT! You were supposed to go with me, but nooo you decided to go to Tahoe instead!"

"Sorry." She sighed, "Unfortunately, it couldn't be helped."

"That's okay, I survived…barely. When I order online, I pick stuff a little less…boisterous, so I had no idea what to select. I was so uncomfortable in the store, I just told the sales clerk that I needed something naughty and something nice. I tossed her my credit card, signed the slip, took the bag and got the hell out of Dodge."

"I think Nick's cowboyisms are rubbing off on you, lil' lady." Outside on the patio, Sara took a seat in a comfy deck chair. "So what's the problem?"

"Well…I'm very comfortable with the white lace one because that's typical for me, but…" Nervous, she cleared her throat, "…the leather corset is freaking me out. Panicking me really…it has these…."

"Leather corset?" Stunned, Sara bolted up in her chair. "I never told you to buy leather." In her mind she finished the statement…I never told you to raid Lady Heather's closet. "I told you to buy La Perla. La Perla doesn't even have a leather line. Sorry, sister, I can't help you with leather, I'm a vegetarian and it's banned from my bedroom." Well, now that she had a secret chicken habit she realized she wasn't technically a vegetarian anymore, but since she was lying to her friend about vegetarianism being the reason for leather being banned in the bedroom, she supposed the embellishment was a moot point.

"You said _naughty and nice_, that's what I told the clerk!"

Sara apologized to her flustered friend, "Sorry, to me naughty means a scrap of black lace and a few strings."

"This is why you were supposed to go with me!" Panting, she said, "And you _know_ Nick's going to pick leather, because variety is the spice of life and since he's been getting lace… oh my god, I'm way too inhibited for leather…you should see this corset, Sara! But I can't change plans now because I already mentioned it in the damn note! See…as a lawyer I should know better than to commit to something in writing! I'll be in breech of contract if I don't deliver as promised! So what am I going to _do _when he picks leather?"

"Take a deep breath." Sara tossed in a dash of reality. "I doubt Nick will turn you into the Bar Association if you change your mind."

"But he sounded so excited on the phone and I _really_ wanted to do something a little crazy to break out of my sexual shell…but what will I _do_ when he picks leather?"

"Frankly, I doubt you'll have to _do_ much of anything once he glimpses you in leather for the first time; after all, men are visual creatures."

"Not helping."

Feeling bad that her advice was causing duress, Sara glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone on the patio and whispered, "Have you uh…ever thought of creating a little _alter ego_ for yourself…someone who is a little less uptight? Some women find using a pseudonym can be um…freeing and it allows them to do things or say things they wouldn't normally do or say."

"You mean like a role play thing?" She asked with trepidation. "Never been there, never done that with Nicky or anyone else. Hell, Sara I've only been with two other guys in my life and they weren't thrill seekers if you get my drift. And while I'm sure Nicky has done plenty of crazy things in crazy places with other women, with me…with the abuse in my background, I think he plays it extra cautious. He keeps things quite traditional. We haven't discussed any of this, but let's put it this way, I know he had a multi-volume black book. I'm sure he had to get pretty wild with some of those women."

"Uh….I'm not so sure about that." Sara giggled. "He and I have had a few candid conversations on conventionality and I'd bet money that he hasn't gotten too adventurous. He's a cowboy…so yeah, he moseyed with plenty of lil' ladies, but he's a certified straight shooter who probably rode his white horse in and out of town the same way every time."

"Sara!"

"Sorry…" She muffled her laugh. "I think my hormones are overactive today." Her thoughts turned inward. Overactive hormones…maybe I'm pregnant! Her hands flew to her chest checking for soreness. It's too early for that, she reminded herself. Hormones though…definitely an early sign!

"Sara? Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry!" She refocused her attention. "I uh…saw something strange floating in the pool and wanted to make sure it wasn't a dead animal. I have to toss those fast or the mad scientist brings them into the house for dissection and then feeds the rotting meat to his bugs."

"That freaks me out _almost_ as much as this studded leather corset and thong I'm staring at. Eww!"

"Yeah…it takes a special woman to love Gil Grissom." She chuckled sweetly and then asked, "Sorry, so what were you saying?"

"I said, maybe if I knew for sure just how diversely experienced Nick is, then maybe I wouldn't feel so intimidated imagining it. You know, this is _really_ hard for me because in _every _other area of my life I have confidence to spare. I'm trying though…I'm going to start taking this cardio strip class with Tawny to help…_if_ I have the guts to go through with it." She giggled, "If I can't do it in public, I may have to ask her for private dance lessons."

Sara, knowing the benefits of such discussions with your significant other, suggested, "Have you ever talked to Nick about it? I bet if you do, you'll find out it's not half as bad as what you're imagining." She knew it first hand from the initial Lady Heartless shocking encounter. Once she and Gil laid all the cards on the table, the tension between them disappeared. Sara silently screamed, if it weren't for the woman's obsession with _berating me_ every time we meet I wouldn't have given her another thought after Gil and I discussed my concern that he needed something I couldn't give him.

"Nick and I don't _talk _about sex in detail." A light giggle wafted through the phone. "I mean, we talk about _having it_, then we have it, and we talk about how great it was, and then we shower and sleep."

"You're marrying the man, Carrie. You should be able to take the conversation a little deeper than that." Sara offered some more advice. "If you're in bed wondering what he wants and he's there concerned he's going to cross a boundary that will freak you out…the two of you are missing out on intimacy." She lightened the mood with a chuckle, "Talk about it…you may find out you're the more adventurous one."

"I doubt that," She laughed with her friend.

Standing up, she started walking the perimeter of the pool. "The point is, once the two of you get this all out in the open, you can stop worrying and start exploring what's mutual. It's what healthy couples do. Trust me, I know my husband's limits and Gil knows my boundaries. He'd never bring home a leather corset and ask me to lick his shoes because he knows why I am who I am and he respects that." For a moment she reflected…he knows the degrading things I witnessed my father demand of my mother and he understands it's just too close to the nightmare. Returning to the conversation, she finished her thought, "And Gil's assured me it's not an element he needs, so neither of us is compromising, which means neither of us is worried or resenting the other." Laughing at herself, she said, "Can you tell how long I've been in therapy? I've got the lingo down...trust, healthy, boundaries, compromising, resenting..."

"You're very good! And you're right…it's just…what if I ask and find out Nick needs something…" She chuckled nervously, "Not that I think he'd ask for the shoe licking scenario, but something I _can't_…"

"Carrie, if there's something Nick can _absolutely not live without_, but you know you're _never _going to be capable of giving it to him…you really shouldn't be marrying each other, right? Other than criminal sexual activity there is no wrong behavior, but as a couple, something _becomes wrong_ if it's not right for one of the partners and they're forced to live a lie. Does that make sense?"

"Yes…" Her voice heavy with tension, she replied, "It's just hard to talk about even with..."

"I know…" Sara cut her off with more evidence to support her point and convince the attorney. "You know what happens sometimes when couples aren't honest about their needs? Husbands sometimes end up at Lady Heather's wearing dog collars and wives spontaneously sleep with their pizza delivery boy. I've seen it all on the job. Communication and trust is critical and if you communicate honestly _up front_ then you won't be surprised one day coming home and finding Nicky wearing your lacy lingerie with heels saying, 'Sweetheart, there's something I've been meaning to ask you…'"

"OH!" Carrie burst out laughing. "My eyes! My psyche! My libido!"

"Sorry, but I felt I needed to lighten the mood…at your expense." Sara shook with laughter. "But, for the record…and I know he won't mind me telling you this, wearing my lingerie is an example of something I _know_ not to ask my husband to do for me…not that the thought of dressing Gil in my La Perla _ever _crossed my mind…that is until now. Eww!."

After a solid minute of hilarity, Carrie caught her breath and said, "Thanks for this talk, Sara. This isn't a conversation I'd feel comfortable having with Wendy."

"Frankly I'm shocked I'm having it with you, but ever since I got home from Tahoe I feel more open." Filling her lungs with the warm evening air, she said, "I slung a few albatrosses into the lake and I guess it freed me to trust a bit more." Actually they were letters into a fireplace, but the analogy worked. "And I uh…never had a close friend before and I like this bonding thing we've got going on here."

"Me too." A tiny sigh preceded her question. "Since we're bonding…do you have an alter ego, Sara?"

Feeling empathy for her friend, Sara confessed, "Yes indeed."

"What's her name?"

"Well when I first let her to come out to play she didn't have a name. She acquired one later." Cracking up she broke the shocking news, "Boom Boom."

Carrie half laughed, half groaned. "Why did you name her THAT? It sounds so trite. It doesn't sound like something you'd choose."

"I didn't, Jim Brass did, and Gil thought it was funny so..."

"Excuse me?" Carrie choked out her words. "Exactly how _adventurous _are you, Sara?"

Careful to exclude the Lady Heather portion of the story, Sara recalled how the _heroic_ Mr. Jim Brass took her and Greg out to get plastered after a _particularly difficult case_ and how her drunken confession earned her the legendary nickname. And while Sara was recounting that story, Gil was in the bug room enthusiastically telling Sean a story of his own…

"So cockroach number six starts coming from behind and in the last second, he races across the finish line, _finally_ earning me bragging rights!" Standing over the tank of hissing cockroaches, Gil beamed with pride.

"Awesome!" Sean vicariously shared in the elation.

"Excuse me," Irving called from the hallway, not desiring to enter the freaky room.

Gil leaned over and whispered in Sean's ear, "The big guy is afraid of bugs."

Geeks Senior and Junior struggled not to laugh at the irony.

"Come on in, Irving," Gil prodded while Sean tried to compose himself. "Unless you're afraid of the bugs."

"I'm not afraid," Irving clarified as he took one small step in the room. "It's weird, that's all." To avoid seeing the creepy crawlers, he stared at the ceiling. "We're all done. I left my card on the bench press…if you don't know what that is, ask your wife. Call me when you have your schedule sorted out."

"I will," Gil politely responded while 'accidentally' dropping cockroach three. "Nobody move. One of my GIANT roaches is loose!"

"What? NO! " Irving bolted out of the room ranting, "I freakin' hate bugs! Indiana Jones hated snakes. I hate bugs! Even Superman had Kryptonite!"

Sean looked up at his trusted educator. "Irving is right, Superman and Indiana Jones were heroes and still got girls." Sighing, he confessed, "But they only had _one _deficiency…I have many."

The boy's statement was out of left field and Gil was reluctant to make the catch. "What?"

"My brother has girls following him everywhere and I can't even get one to talk to me." Hoping for some sound advice, the boy asked, "You have a great girl, so maybe you can give me some advice."

"Uh…" Bugs he could handle explaining to the pubescent boy. Girls? Not so much. Thinking of the lines he fed Greg to snag a date with Tawny, Gil confessed, "You know um…the last time I gave advice to a young man, things didn't go so well. You should really ask your future Uncle Nick."

"Like HE can relate to me?" Sean scoffed at the ridiculous notion. "A wink and a smile is all it takes from him to put a girl under his spell. He took my brother and I out for ice cream and you should have seen the girl behind the counter salivating over his _thank ya ma'am_ cowboy crap…oops…sorry, bad word."

"The bugs don't mind," He joked to lighten the mood. And the boy was right, he had seen Nick use the _'thank ya ma'am cowboy crap'_ on fawning women for years and it was irritating when you don't have a purty lady of your own.

"My brother got the brawn and I got the brains. He's at football camp and when he comes home next week, I bet his shoulders will be bigger…not as big as his swelled head, but…one look at my brother and girls see hero potential."

Gil empathized with the boy, recalling his own troubling middle school years that eventually led to a deep retreat. "Sean, you know the saying 'never judge a book by its cover', right?"

"Of course."

"Well, a hero doesn't have to look like Irving…or Nick…or your brother." Taking a seat next to the deflated young man, Gil said, "Heroes don't only wear capes and football jerseys. Sometimes heroes wear lab coats. Take Alexander Fleming for example…"

"He discovered penicillin."

"Right." Gil nodded. "He was a short, quiet man who wore a bowtie, but he changed the course of history. He's still saving lives today long after he's gone."

Sean quickly countered, "No one claps when a baby's fever breaks, but when my brother scores a touchdown at a stupid peewee football game, the crowd goes wild."

"You make a valid point." Running his hand across his beard, Gil did a little more thinking. "I guess it depends on what's more important to you…the claps or the work itself. I'd argue that the football player, once the crowd goes home and the stadium is silent, feels a sense of loss. His heroic moment was fleeting and doesn't ripple through time. I'm sure you've heard men recalling a big game where they scored the game winning point, right?"

"Yeah, every time my dad's friend Bill comes over he tells Ryan the same stupid story about winning the state championships in 1979."

"Exactly…in order to feel heroic he has to go back in time and relive that moment. His heroics occurred in the past. What Dr. Fleming did changed the future. If he were alive today he wouldn't have to think back to feel good, he could walk into any hospital and see the difference he made." Personalizing his approach he said, "CSIs rarely get claps. In any high profile case who gets the glory? The sheriff and the cops who apprehended the bad guy."

"And that doesn't make you guys mad?"

Gil chuckled lightly, "It really ticks off my friend Catherine, but not me, no. It doesn't bother me because I know my work made a difference and it didn't just end something, nine out of ten times it prevented something from happening in the future. If I put away a rapist, then every time I see a woman I can think, maybe I saved her from danger. If I put away a murderer, then every time I see a family I can think, maybe I prevented them from losing a loved one. And sometimes, like in your mom's case…I get the satisfaction of knowing I was able to help restore someone's peace of mind…for me, that's better than any trophy or Superbowl ring. That's why I do my job, Sean…not for the claps."

"You make a valid point," Sean smiled after parroting his mentor's words.

"Never doubt your ability to be a hero, Sean." Gil flashed a supportive smile. "Dr. Fleming didn't intend to discover Penicillin, he was just in the right place at the right time and when he found himself there, he used his intelligence to change the future. I know one day, you will too."

"Thanks, Mr. Grissom." Sean basked in the compliment. "I won't let you down."

**Paris Hotel  
****5:55 p.m. **

After working through her concerns on the phone with Sara, Carrie had darted around the hotel suite prepping for the private birthday surprise party. Now, as she stood in the middle of the room, her organization-obsessed mind took a quick inventory. The pricey champagne was chilling, the mood music was cued for playing, and the outrageous lingerie, both leather and lace as promised in her note, were on the bed arranged for selecting. Grinning, she admired her handiwork and her tiny leap outside the box.

Now it was time for the final step in her action plan…the development of a suitable alter ego to don with the infamous leather corset and thong should Nick opt for that route…which she _knew_ he would.

Taking a seat at the desk in the living room of the suite, she grabbed a paper and pen to do some brainstorming.

Five minutes and a pad full of doodles later, Carrie decided she could use a little help. Returning to the bedroom, she tossed her paper and pen on the bed and opened the drawer of a nightstand. There she found two things…a Bible left by the Gideons and a guide to Las Vegas after dark. She selected the latter.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she thumbed through the racy ads while trying desperately not to think of all the poor degraded lost souls displayed on the pages. Girls more full of silicone than self-esteem and women in need of confidence boosts and new careers.

When she couldn't get beyond the tragic angle of the magazine, she pretended the girls were just actresses playing parts. When that worked, she congratulated herself on successfully executing her first role play. Then she saw the ad for Tweeters featuring Tawny and other assorted birds of a feather. "Oh!"

Dropping the magazine, she paced the room.

Five minutes later she had another idea. Maybe if she put the garment on, a persona would automatically emerge complete with name.

Tossing off her white satin robe, she squeezed awkwardly into the constricting leather lace-up top and slipped on the matching silver studded leather panties. Then she turned to face the mirrored closet doors. "Oh my god!" She shrieked, having seen herself dressed scandalously for the first time. I look like I'm in the cast of the musical Chicago playing one of the murdering mistresses in the Cell Block Tango. Oh! That's it! What were their names, she struggled to remember. Then suddenly one of the character's names popped into her head…Roxie.

Turning to check out her posterior reflection, Carrie snickered, "Whoa…I can't wait to see the look on Nick's face when Roxie struts out of the bathroom ready for action…not that I have any idea what she's capable of delivering." Blushing from the look of the garment on her reluctant body, Carrie blurted, "I look _so_ sinful!"

**Desert Springs Church  
****5:59 p.m. **

As Lindsay walked through the church parking lot with Warrick, she groaned, "I can't believe my mom made you bring me here."

"She thought since I'm a faster runner, I'd have a better chance of dodging lightning bolts." Adjusting his sunglasses, he grinned, "Nah…just kidding. She's a little backlogged on case files, so she's working late to clean things up before her new boss starts Monday."

Stopping on the sidewalk, Lindsay announced, "You don't have to go any further."

"Hell yes I do." He was determined to check out the pastor's son and give him the 'don't even think about putting a hand on my little girl' stare down.

Scolding him with her eyes, she reminded him, "You're in front of a church. You shouldn't be saying hell."

Warrick found the comment from the un-churched girl amusing. "Linds, you just wait and see…that's all some churches talk about. Goin' to hell, burnin' in hell…yeah…talking about hell is _cool_ at church."

Breaking into a smile, Lindsay turned around ready to continue the walk toward the building. But when she did, she smacked right into a boy arriving for youth group. "Sorry," She quickly apologized while she bent down to pick up the book he dropped and when she did, she read the title out loud "For the Love Insects? Huh?" She couldn't imagine the words _love _and _insects_ in the same sentence.

Sean Blake retrieved his text from the girl and eagerly explained, "It's a book dedicated to the triumphs of small creatures. For instance, some beetles have a defense mechanism that allows them to spray boiling water at their enemies and certain caterpillars disguise themselves by sticking flower petals to their bodies to elude prey. It's fascinating really. I'd allow you to borrow it, but I'm borrowing it myself, so it's not my place to loan it out."

"Yeah uh…" Lindsay glanced up at Warrick who was gaping at the boy like he knew him somehow. "That's okay, I think bugs are gross."

"Why?" Sean asked in disbelief. "Don't you realize that if bugs disappeared from our ecosystem tomorrow, the entire structure would collapse and we'd all die?"

Warrick finally spoke up. "You sound just like a guy I work with."

"Nice meeting you, Bug Boy." Lindsay tugged on Warrick's hand, "Let's go, Pops. Mom said you can't leave me here until you see if they're serving Kool-Aid…whatever that means."

Warrick glanced back at the boy, wondering if perhaps Grissom had an illegitimate kid walking around town that he didn't know about.

**Greg's Apartment  
****6:15 p.m. **

"Hurry up!" Greg shouted from the living room as he raced to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table. "I just saw her parking my car in my space."

"Sorry!" Tawny rushed out from the bathroom, still fussing with her freshly showered and dried hair. Taking a seat on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table she asked, "Does my hair look okay? It's the first time I did it myself with the new cut."

Lunging over the table, he covered her mouth in a kiss before replying, "It's perfect…but honestly, I'm so blissed out right now, I don't think I'm capable of forming an opinion about you other than _perfect_."

"Aww…" His deep brown puppy dog eyes tugged at her heart. "I love you."

Much to his surprise, the words rolled off his tongue without hesitation. "I love you too." His grin widened. "Wow…it's the same rush saying it _back_ to you as saying it to you. That's cool."

"Tell me about it!"

The sound of the front door opening cued them to begin their ruse.

Grabbing the Boggle grid, Greg shook it, letting the letter cubes fall into place. "Go!" He yelled while slapping the timer down on the table.

Keeping straight faces, Greg and Tawny grabbed their pencils and began jotting down words.

Holding a six pack of Corona Light, Bev strolled into the apartment. The second she saw Greg and Tawny busy with a board game she knew her son was in a playful mood. "I'm baaaack," She sang in her lovely music teacher's voice.

"Shhh!" Greg scolded. "We're on our 21st game…it's the tie-breaker!"

Setting the beer on the counter, Bev rolled her eyes as a feigned concern powered her voice, "Gee…I hope the turnip truck I just fell off doesn't have a hard time navigating the apartment parking lot."

Tawny burst out laughing then quickly refocused on her game and the ruse.

With spunk in her step, Bev approached the coffee table, taking a minute to check each player's word list. "Hmm…she's kicking your ass, son." A Stanford Phi Beta Kappa being creamed by an ex-stripper with a High School Equivalency Diploma…she liked the irony.

"Really? She is?" He said with surprise. Then again, his mind was still mush…a residual side effect of mind numbin' lovin', so maybe it wasn't that surprising.

Giggling, Tawny explained, "When I worked at Club Paradise I used to play this game in the locker room. It's popular with the girls dancing for college tuition. Plus, since it only takes three minutes it's easy to squeeze in games on breaks. I found it real easy to win once I memorized a lot of the unique three letter words like…"

"Tit." Bev announced, catching her son's full attention, "I can't believe _you_ missed _that one_, son. Especially not with such a strong visual cue in the room." She was relieved when Tawny laughed. Not only because she realized after saying it that she might be offended, but it proved the girl had a great sense of humor and would fit well into their quirky little family.

"Shit!" He raced to scribble it down before the last grains of sand slipped through the timer.

"Yeah…" Bev laughed, "You missed that one too, Mr. Wizard." Shaking her head she said, "A few of us teachers play Boggle in the lunch room. We know all the dirty words. Wouldn't the teens be surprised?" Reaching down she selected five letter cubes one at a time, lining them up for both players to see. B-R-E-A-K. "As in give me one…21st tie breaking game my ass. The two of you spent every minute in the bedroom you could, then took a quick shower, threw on the same clothes and raced out two minutes before I got here and started playing. Tawny's hair and make up are done differently, and son, you smell a hell of a lot better now than when you arrived home from work." She caught her son's eye. "Shades of the Becca Turnbull incident?"

"Ha!" Tawny clapped with delight. "He said you would say that!" Although she didn't know why.

Greggy wallowed in the satisfaction. "Yep, she still doesn't believe me to this day. I wanted to bring it to a head once and for all…uh…pardon the pun." Glancing up at his mother, he droned, "I did not have sex with Becca Turnbull under your roof. I never even got to first base with Becca under your roof or anywhere else for that matter. I was her goofy guy pal that she chilled with when she was in between jocks, because I'm…and I quote her...such a sweet sensitive guy. Yeah…later in life I realized, if a girl refers to you solely as 'sweet and sensitive', you know you're not gettin' lucky."

"I know…I know…you were just innocently playing Boggle." Bev chuckled, "Honey, it's not like I'm going to ground you, it was thirteen years ago. Can't you come clean…pardon the pun.?" It wasn't that she believed bodacious Becca dated Greg. Clearly she had just shown her sweet sensitive son a little _**mercy** _that afternoon. And Bev didn't punish him for having sex which, being a lusty California teen once who knew the beach was for more than sunbathing, she knew she would have been hypocritical. No, she punished him for lying and not producing a condom wrapper upon demand, which seemed so ironic now that he really had gotten a girl pregnant. She corrected herself…**_hopefully _**he got Tawny pregnant and not the other, one-night-stand man, which seemed so strange to think since Greg getting a girl pregnant out of wedlock used to be her worst nightmare.

"Mom!" He snapped her out of her daze.

"What? Sorry."

"I was telling the truth and I still am." Looking at Tawny, Greg lamented, "I swear, I trace my desire to be a CSI back to this Becca injustice. You have to understand…losing your car in California is the closest thing to losing a limb. Not that I would have minded if I actually _had sex_ with Becca Turnbull. No, on the contrary, I would have been happy to walk to school…hell, through fire, in exchange for one romp with her. But to lose my car and _still _have my virginity was cruel and unusual punishment." Returning his gaze to his mother, he confidently said, "I stand by my innocence."

Glancing up at Mrs. Sanders, Tawny asked, "Why don't you believe him?" It was a little awkward considering her mother's choice not to believe her when wrongly accused. She couldn't believe someone as cool as Bev wouldn't believe her child.

"Because while Mr. Innocent was in the family room with Becca, having the supposed _Boggle marathon_, I decided to do laundry…linens specifically." Folding her arms across her chest she said, "DNA King…wanna tell her what I found and let **_your significant other_**, be the judge? And remember, when asked at the time, you couldn't explain the discovery. The evidence doesn't lie, isn't that the phrase you use?"

This was exactly the part of the drama that had made Greg back down that particular day, but today, after already squirming with discomfort in front of his mother, he was determined to set the record straight no matter how awkward. "At work we'd technically label my mother's discovery as, _traces of protein_."

Tawny stared cluelessly for a moment, then covered her mouth. "Oh!" Now it was understandable why Bev didn't believe him. Aww…Cherry Greg didn't know enough to strip the sheets. Then again, maybe he was just a slob, because she recalled him seeming surprised after the first time they made love at his place that she wanted to toss the sheets in the wash and put fresh ones on before going to bed. Actually, he is kind of a slob to live with she confessed to herself for the first time…skanky boxers and damp bath towels on the floor being two key pieces of evidence.

"Tawny!" He wondered where she had drifted to just now.

"What? Sorry."

Greg groaned, "If I had been a CSI back then, or not **_completely mortified_,** I could easily have proven my innocence. So, Tawny, I look to you now to solve the mystery and clear me once and for all." Using the tone of a whodunit host, he laid out the facts, "If Becca had been inspected for trace evidence, my DNA and my epithelials wouldn't have been found anywhere on her body, nor would hers have been found on me. If the linens in question were tested, they would have revealed I was the only person in the bed. Becca was the girl of my fantasies at the time. She was due over in a half hour, I was home alone, and I was already _way _too jazzed to see her. I do not dispute _the evidence_ was left by me. I am not guilty of having sex with anyone. I rest my case."

"Aww…" Tawny reached over and took her man's hand. "Not guilty, Sweetie."

Bev cracked up. "Why didn't you just fess up back then? Trust me, THAT'S something I would have believed. But you were acting so secretive and out of character when I confronted you about having Becca in your bedroom, you made me believe you were lying."

"We uh…don't need to delve into this any deeper. I'm exonerated and we can drop it." He grumbled, "Besides, it's not like you can make up for taking my car away."

"Speaking of that…" Bev smiled as she reached into her purse. "Tawny told me that you were planning on trading in your hot new sports car for something more safety oriented for Tawny and the baby. You'll never get a deal as good as this from any car lot." Handing over a check for twenty grand, she explained, "I've grown attached to your tricked out black Z. It makes me feel like such a babe!"

"She's totally right!" Tawny assured Greg. "When we swung by her hotel, I saw this old guy in the parking lot of the Mandalay Bay checking her out while she was parking it. It was totally weird too because he looked so much like Gil Grissom it was creepy!"

"I've still got it." Bev fluffed her hair and said, "I used a computer in the Mandalay's business center to research the current blue book value. So here's my proposition…let's swap…twenty thousand cold hard cash and my 2004 Camry, for your car. What do you say? You can drive yours out on Labor Day and drive mine home."

Accepting the check and the generous offer, he smiled. "So, you're taking away my car _again._" Catching Tawny's eye, he pleasantly sighed, "Well…at least this time I really did have mind blowing sex with the **_girl of dreams_** before racing into the living room to play Boggle and fake out my mother."

**The Grissoms'  
****6:28 p.m. **

When the doorbell rang, Sara flew to answer it. Gil was still sequestered in the bug room, cleaning up from Sean's visit, and she was anxious to get to Ron first.

"Hello, Sara," He warmly greeted while extending a gorgeous bouquet of pink and white variegated tulips.

"Welcome, Ron." She accepted the gift. "They're beautiful, thank you." Her eyes shifted to the birthday gift he was holding and she tensed knowing Gil wouldn't want one from his father.

Smiling, he stepped inside holding a large wrapped package. "Variegated tulips are given to ladies with beautiful eyes." Chuckling, he remarked, "I only said that to you because my son isn't here to accuse me of spouting bullshit, which it's not…that is the documented meaning behind the flower and you do have beautiful eyes."

"I still heard it," Gil announced while rounding the corner. The sight of his father and the gift he was holding made him bristle.

Sara reached out and took her husband's hand. "It's that excellent hearing of yours." It was an odd sight to see the two of them calmly in the same room considering the last time she had seen them together Gil was seconds away from choking the life out of his father. "Let's head to the kitchen so I can put these wonderful tulips in water and get our guest a drink."

For a moment, Gil shivered as the memory of his harsh words delivered in a maniacal tone echoed in his head. _Look what I found…two drinking glasses. Were you doubling up, Honey, or did you entertain Ron with a beverage?_ _I don't think the bastard is worthy of my spit no less a god damn glass of my water in my home! _

Sara sweetly asked while walking down the hall with the two men following, "What would you like to drink, Ron? I have Iced Tea, Light Beer, Diet Coke and Water to offer." A twinge of anxiety sparked in her as she heard her husband's angry words in her head. _I don't think the bastard is worthy of my spit no less a god damn glass of my water in my home! _

"I'd love a nice cold glass of Iced Tea, thank you, Dear."

Grissom and Sara breathed simultaneous sighs of relief that he didn't choose water.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Sara turned towards the men. "I hope dinner smells good because I slaved over a..." When she saw the identical postures and expressions of the father and son, she froze.

Gil stood still as his nose filled with the aroma of his favorite childhood supper. Is this why Sara banished me to the bug room since Sean's visit? "That smell…"

"Chicken Casserole ala Jillian," Ron whimsically announced as he was transported back to a happy time. "It was the first meal she ever cooked for me. It was my favorite."

"Mine too," Gil remarked from his heart while he turned to his father.

Sara's spirit soared as she realized her surprise was a three for one deal…Gil's favorite meal, Ron's favorite meal and, for a split second, it bonded father and son. "This is the _nostalgic_ gift I mentioned." Sara stepped forward and kissed her husband's cheek. "I saw your mom had noted it was your favorite." Moving back behind the counter she told both men, "But, since both of you are heart healthy eaters, I coerced Master Chef Wendy Blake into figuring out how to cut the fat out of the recipe while retaining as much of the original flavor as possible."

"It smells exactly the same, Sara," Gil assured her. "You know smell is the most powerful trigger of memory and the second I smelled it I thought I was back in my mother's kitchen."

Clearing his throat, Ron attempted to move beyond the bittersweet memories assaulting him. "Wow…my daughter-in-law is a woman of many surprises."

Gil glanced at his father, slightly resenting the possessive nature of the phrase, _my_ daughter-in-law, but unable to deny its technical accuracy.

"Yes, I am." Sara had no problem accepting the compliment while arranging the tulips in a vase she had retrieved from a kitchen cabinet. "How about I get you that glass of Iced Tea now and while I'm doing that, maybe you'll want to do something with that gift you're holding?"

"Oh, right." He set the package on the kitchen island and prepared for the backlash.

"I didn't want you to…"

"I know." Ron abruptly interrupted his son and defused him with a smile. "It's really more a gift for Sara than for you." Looking Gil square in the eye he said, "Here's one of those straight shooting no-bullshit answers you enjoy so much. Ready?"

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he calmly replied, "Go ahead."

With candor Ron said, "Yeah, I thought about buying you something, but what the hell was I going to buy you that wouldn't piss you off? I mean, forty years have gone by and Hallmark doesn't have a card saying, I've neglected you for decades, but hey, Happy Birthday, here's a token gift. Not to mention, you recently gave me fifty grand to reconcile the fact that you wanted nothing from me…so, I figured it would be insulting to start the tally over again." He tapped the box. "Therefore, I opted to give you something that already belonged to you that I happened to have in my possession. Something I knew Sara would appreciate having."

Gil stared cautiously at his father, wondering if this was some emotional ploy.

Placing a hand on his son's shoulder Ron informed him, "Yeah, I see those wheels turning in your head. To prove how honest I'm being with you these days, I'll even make a confession…something I guarantee will only _enhance _my reputation as an asshole...well, former asshole I'd like to hope." Removing his hand from his son he sighed, "I unintentionally took this box with me when I moved out of the house. I won't lie and say I kept it under my bed and pulled it out every night before I went to sleep wishing things were different…I'll be honest and tell you that I lost track of it for decades. Turns out my second ex-wife had it in storage with her things and she returned it to me when she was clearing stuff out about ten or so years ago…"

Sara was certain she'd burst if the damn box wasn't opened in the next ten seconds.

But Ron wasn't done yet. "…when I opened it, it made me feel like shit so I put it high on a shelf in a room I never used. Every once in a while, when I was in a self-loathing mood, and every year on your birthday, I'd take it out and open it up just to feel worse. When I was in therapy, the doctor told me she thought it was a healthy thing to do and she said, one day I'd be able to see the box and its contents differently. I had my housekeeper Fed Ex it to the Mandalay a few days ago and when it arrived, I realized my therapist was right."

With her hands on her head Sara blurted, "Please open it before I die of curiosity!" Then she smiled and handed Ron the glass of Iced Tea he had been waiting for patiently. "Sorry."

Gil inched closer to the mystery gift. "Thank you for your candor, I appreciate it." When he reached the counter, he slid the gift with him as he moved next to Sara, using her proximity to soothe himself.

Ron sipped his drink while waiting for his son's reaction.

When the lid to the shoebox was removed, Sara shrilled with delight. It was a box full of mementos from son to father…pictures drawn, school papers, rocks painted to use as paperweights, and various bug-themed art projects. It was a box full of history and a gift to share with the future Grissom generation. They were exactly the sort of things she didn't have of her own. "Thank you," She gushed. "You're right…I love it."

While his mind remained in shock, Gil reached in and fished out a colorful painting. One painted no doubt with his mother's art supplies. It was a child's rendition of a monarch butterfly and the words_ To Daddy _were painted in the top left corner and the words _Love Gil_ in the bottom right.

Sara placed her hand on her stunned husband's shoulder. "Who knew you were such a good artist? Is there any talent you don't have?" She brushed a kiss over his cheek and lingered on his ear whispering, "I love you. I'm going to leave the two of you alone now."


	7. Chapter 7

**Feasibility Study  
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 7"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****The Grissoms'  
****6:48 p.m. **

As Ron and Gil stood staring at each other, the silence in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with the bread knife Sara had left out on the counter.

Finally, after a couple of minutes and what he hoped was long enough for his son to deal with receiving the gift, Ron spoke up. "I hope you're not upset because that wasn't my intent. My intent…well, I think you saw what my intent was when you caught Sara's reaction. And I think, from the story I told, it was pretty obvious that I didn't have a hidden agenda to paint myself in a positive light."

"Unless…" Gil's eyes darted from his father to the box and back again. "...unless you're trying to manipulate me into trusting you by using honesty to disarm me."

"Wow." Ron pulled out one of the barstools at the island and took a seat. "Now it not only smells like I've been transported back to a kitchen in California in the late 1950's, it's starting to _sound_ like I'm there too."

Gil winced from the insinuation…not because it was offensive, but because it reminded him of how automatically reactive and distrusting he still was. "You're referring to my mother."

Ron finished his sip of tea then nodded. "The more honest I was, the more distrusting she became. Finally it hit me…why bother? Your mother taught me one of the biggest benefits of lying."

"Which is?"

"Lying makes life easier. Which sometimes is true but not in the way your mother and I applied it."

Gil snipped, "A husband should never lie to his wife."

Although they were veering off course, he took the bait. "Gil, you see everything in terms of black and white, I don't." Ron calmly explained, "I would argue in some cases lying to your wife is the right thing to do."

Not agreeing Gil demanded, "Cite an example."

Ron studied his son's eyes and then shared a scenario. "A hypothetical wife, getting ready for a big shindig asks her hypothetical husband, _I love this new dress but,_ _do you think it makes my ass look fat? _The easiest and right thing for him to do is lie…_of course not, Honey, you look gorgeous as always._ But, if he tells her the truth…_Honey, the reality is, your ass is a little fat and that dress that you love so much doesn't help matters, but I love you just the way you are_, what do you think happens?"

Gil responded quickly, "I want to hear your take on what happens first."

Appeasing his son, Ron answered, "The wife gets emotional. Suddenly, the stunning new dress she loved thirty seconds ago is horrible. Consequently, she either decides not to attend the party she's been looking forward to attending or, she goes and has a horrible time because she feels self-conscious about her ass all night. The husband feels like shit because he ruined the night and he knows he's sleeping on the couch instead of getting lucky. Think it could happen that way?"

"Quite possibly."

"Trust me…you're a newlywed and I'm thrice divorced…it _will_ happen that way." He chuckled briefly. "Conversely, if the husband _lied,_ the wife would have had a wonderful time at the party and, when they got home, the husband would have gotten lucky because the wife was happy and felt good about her body looking fine all night in her fancy new dress. Regardless if he lied or told the truth, the wife's ass is still the same size and he still loves his wife big ass and all. The truth in my scenario wouldn't have helped anything…it would only have hurt the wife and ruined her good time."

Gil countered, "What happens when the wife realizes her ass is big and figures out her husband lied?"

Ron smiled, "He only lied to protect her from having a terrible time at the party and since she had a great time at the party and her ass would have been big no matter what dress she wore, she should realize he didn't do it maliciously. But the trick is, I said, she _should _realize…that's the thing about women, they think emotionally and not logically. They worry about things that haven't happened or they can't change, they jump to conclusions, they get paranoid, they feel betrayed…when sometimes the only thing really going on is someone is trying to spare them a little unnecessary pain." Ron smoothed his hands over his slacks and grumbled, "Sounds a lot like your reaction when Sara was trying to protect you from finding me, doesn't it? Which proves my point we discussed in my hotel room, your mother had a lot of negative influence on the way you think…you react intensely emotional to personal situations rather than trying to see things _logically._ Your mother did such a good job screwing with your mind, she managed to rewire part of your _male _brain. There's a good topic for therapy should you ever be at a loss."

In a nice show of deflection Gil coolly replied, "I think your answer about the wife and the husband reflects your vast experience with women and lying."

It was classic deflection but he let it slide. "That I have." Ron nodded vehemently. "Even though it would be easier…I won't lie to you because this is important. Yes, I know my way around women and bullshit, and I frequently used one to get the other. But I never lied to your mother…"

"How do you figure that?" He asked, miffed by the bold untruth.

Holding up his hand, Ron said, "You didn't let me finish. I never lied to your mother about important matters _while_ I loved her and she was my wife. Problem was, one day shedecided to stop being my wife…my partner…my friend…hell, everything we swore as young lovers we would always be to each other." His voice grew a little distant as he drifted, "…over time what I thought as a naïve twenty-something madly in love with the woman of his dreams could never happen, happened…she fell out of my heart." Reconnecting his gaze with Gil's he said, "_That's _when I started lying, and I did it because it made life easier…for a while. That's the trick about a man and woman lying to each other…it works fine for the little things…the big ass dress kind of stuff, but not for the things with real consequences and not as a long term solution. A person can only live a lie so long. So, when I got sick of living a lie every day, I told your mother the truth, in a cold and vicious way that only a shameful coward angry over broken vows would…and then I walked out the door…away from her…and by default, away from you."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Gil asked while uncertain he really wanted to know, "How did you do it?"

"You really want to hear this?"

"Yes.

Ron hesitated for a moment, but continued on, "Being a strict Catholic, Jillian refused to give me a divorce, even though we hadn't been truly husband and wife since she began lying to me about her hearing and keeping me locked out of her life…_our _life." Ron wrapped his fingers around his glass, using its chill to soothe himself while he confessed, "I finally did what she had falsely accused me of doing on numerous occasions…I slept with another woman on a business trip…had to get so hammered to do it that looking back, I'm surprised I was capable. It was my way of saying to myself it's really over even though I had known it for almost two years."

The news came as no surprise to Gil, whose mother had told him numerous times what a lying filthy cheat his father was and having had to translate the phrase during several arguments between non-hearing mother and non-signing father. However, it was the first time he heard his mother had been wrongly accusing him at least part of the time.

Pausing, Ron took a sip of chilly tea to regroup for the worst part. "After all was said and done, I asked the woman if I could keep her lingerie and when she gave it to me, I packed it in my suitcase. I knew Jillian would never let me live in the house once she saw I would be flaunting my supposed affairs…because she would be afraid it would influence you. In this warped version of marriage we were living at the time, your mother insisted on doing my laundry…she found the lingerie when unpacking my suitcase…as was the plan."

The hurt son, having heard enough, was about ready to cease the tale when his father continued on in a somber tone.

"I was standing right there when she found it and that's when I realized…even though she had accused me of cheating on her dozens of times, she never really believed I had or would. After that, she signed the divorce papers. Once, Gil…I cheated on her once and I did it so we could all move on." Again, he locked his eyes on his son. "So there's another gift to you on your birthday…from your parents…our twisted story…don't let what happened to us happen to you and Sara. Don't avoid things, don't see everything as black and white, and don't ever _start_ living a lie because it will build a wall between you and one day you'll look over and you won't be able to see each other anymore."

Gil remained silent, processing the information and trying Greg's technique...deciding what to filter out and what to absorb.

Taking a deep breath, Ron steadied himself and then tried to inject a little levity. "And I know it's difficult for you to operate in the grey but, promise me, after Sara has a baby, if she asks you, _do I look fat in this dress_, that you won't blurt out the truth. It's really okay to tell her, _of course not, Honey, you look gorgeous as always_. Think you can manage that without fearing your nose will grow?" He chuckled slightly. "Your nose will definitely grow if you tell her the truth because Sara is spunky and she might pop you in the schnoz."

Gil was reminded of how people often misinterpreted Sara's sometimes gruff exterior. "She's spunky but, she doesn't condone physical abuse or violence except of course for self-defense."

"You're a lucky man," Ron smiled. "My third wife…thirty years my junior and surprisingly energetic for an anorexic former model, hurled a vase at me when I wouldn't let her and her party girlfriends use the company jet to fly to Aspen. I had to get eight stitches in the back of my head."

Unamused by the story, Gil groaned, "How horrible for you."

"Actually it was a godsend…" He explained with no remorse. "…there was a clause in the pre-nup regarding domestic abuse. She insisted on it in case I turned out to be a beast, turns out she was the beast and it worked against her." Turning the conversation back to Gil's life, Ron said, "To sum up this patriarchal diatribe of mine, I'll say this…always remember, when it comes to the important stuff, no matter how much it hurts in the moment, keep your marriage open and honest because, in the long run, you'll be stronger as a couple instead of destroyed. I lived the nightmares so you don't have to…each generation is supposed to get a little wiser, right? You've come close to blowing it once already…don't make the same mistake twice. Different mistakes are fine, but women don't care much for repetition in this area."

Gil leaned against the fridge, using its gentle hum and slight chill to soothe himself. Once again he had to accept that his parents' story had no true hero or villain, only two lost human beings and that he and Sara were also two human beings capable of making poor choices and letting distance build. And then he remembered what they had just gone through and how they faced their problems head on and were stronger together now instead of weaker.

After polishing off his tea, Ron caught his son's eye. "Still think I'm trying to manipulate you by using honesty to gain your trust?"

"No," He replied without hesitation.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Ron asked and with a smirk he added, "And I'd prefer a no-bullshit answer."

"I…uh…" He took a step forward and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maya Angelou has a quote…_you did what you knew how to do and when you knew better, you did better_." Gil took another step. "For most of my life you didn't know what the hell you were doing as a father. You were an asshole and that's me being generous to you on my birthday since biologically I can't deny that without you I wouldn't be here to celebrate."

"Thank you, I'm happy to accept your generosity."

Gil gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "I think at some point you realized what an asshole you were and what you lost…maybe it was the day you received this box you gave me today, I'm not really sure when…anyway, over time you learned a little better so now…now that I've given you the opportunity, I think you're trying to _do_ better." With the clearing of his throat he took another step. "I think you're _trying_ to be a better father."

"And how does that make you feel?" Ron asked in the voice of a man who put in plenty of time on a therapist's couch.

"Lucky," He replied without filtering his response. "Because not everyone gets this opportunity I have and that leaves them no choice but to be haunted by unanswered questions. Now I know I can get honest answers if I want them. Sara would give anything to have this opportunity with her parents so…"

"I'm back!" Sara announced from down the hall so she wouldn't interrupt anything. "I hope that's okay!" When she turned the corner she was relieved they were both alive and well and neither had used the bread knife she recalled absently leaving on the counter.

Gil smiled at his wife and blurted the depressing truth. "I was just talking about you, Honey." When she reached him, he took her in his arms for a hug and realized he shouldn't have said it because now she would be curious and he didn't want to have to explain the context of his statement.

"You were talking about _me_?" She grinned. "What were you saying?"

"Uh…"

Ron jumped in with an answer. "We were admiring the smell of your delicious dinner and wondering how long it would be until we got to enjoy it."

"That's why I had to come back!" Sara cheerily replied as she slipped out of her husband's arms and moved to the oven. "I wanted to make sure I didn't ruin this special night by burning dinner. Plus, I'd never hear the end of it from the Anal Retentive Chef!"

And while Sara checked the status of the casserole, Gil looked at Ron, who had just lied to his wife to make things easier while not compromising her in any way, and said, "Thank you for the gift, Dad."

"You're welcome, son."

Sara, having heard the exchange, placed the casserole on the stove and gawked at the Grissom men. Suddenly her eyes welled and a lump formed in her throat. "Did you just call him…"

Ron stood smiling. "We had a good talk. And it's all your doing, Sara." He extended his hand out to Gil. "Let's show her how civil we've become since my last visit to your house. How about a shake to symbolize our fresh start?"

It was an intriguing situation to Gil. He had no doubt that Ron was manipulating the situation, using Sara's presence to ensure he got what he was requesting. At the same time, Gil, who really didn't want to shake his father's hand and make such a bold commitment _just yet_, knew it would show Sara that he was keeping his promises and working diligently toward his therapy goals. The other thing he knew for a fact was, if the handshake occurred, his wife would be ecstatic. So he concluded, although both his and his father's intentions were in a grey area, since it was a win-win-win situation…for the first time in over forty years, Gil accepted his father's handshake. "To a fresh start."

Witnessing the monumental moment threw Sara over the edge and without warning tears started streaming down her face. "Sorry…this isn't like me." She lunged for a paper towel. "I'm just feeling really hormonal today for some…" She turned to look at Gil. "…for some reason."

Exchanging smiles with his wife, Gil asked a loaded question. "Honey, are you planning on eating the _chicken_ casserole?"

"Hell, yeah!" Her smile widened. "I'm craving it!"

**Paris Hotel  
****6:59 p.m. **

Looking quite debonair in his suit and new tie, Nick navigated through the crowd on the strip, shielding the dozen red roses he was carrying. Even though it was his birthday celebration, the gentleman in him couldn't show up for a formal date without flowers for his special lady.

As he approached the nostalgic rendezvous spot, he caught a glimpse of his future wife facing the tower and glancing at her watch. The sight brought a smile to his face for two reasons…her stunning appearance in the sophisticated black dress she was wearing and her endearing penchant for punctuality driving her to stare at her watch.

Even though he knew he'd be late and she'd be ticked, he took a few minutes to stand there admiring her beauty from a distance. The backless dress she wore accentuated every gorgeous curve of her body and her wavy chestnut hair fanned out over her shoulders so delicately…in his eyes, she was sheer perfection. There wasn't an inch of her he didn't worship. And later tonight, when she reiterated her two options, he couldn't wait to ask her to don whatever delicate lacy garment she had brought for the special occasion.

As people and time passed him by, Nick stood enamored with the future Mrs. Stokes and the idea that she had gone to the trouble of planning such a special night for his thirty-fifth birthday. In spite of his playboy past taking up too many years of his life, he was right where he always wanted to be at this juncture in his life…engaged to a wonderful, witty, intelligent, stunning woman with whom he was planning a family and a future together.

And while Nick stood there, in awe of the honorable woman he would marry in a little over five months, Carrie turned around to scan the area for her tardy date. That's when she saw him, standing there so handsome in his best suit and holding a dozen roses.

Although there had to be a hundred people swarming to and fro all around them on the streets of faux-Paris as the sun started setting, Nick and Carrie only saw each other as they exchanged smiles.

Just as Nick hoped, Carrie remained at the foot of the tower so he could walk to meet her, savoring the view every step of the way. With each eliminated yard between them their smiles expanded a little more and when he was finally standing in front of her he said softly, "I know I'm late" and he handed her the flowers. "I was on time but then I saw the most amazing woman I ever saw and I took a few moments to appreciate her. It couldn't be helped."

"You're forgiven," She gushed as she accepted the bouquet, filling her nose with their sweet fragrance. Bringing her flowers to his birthday celebration…there was no denying he was a gentleman through and through and she adored him for it. "They're beautiful."

"They seemed that way until I saw them next to you…" Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his chest. "But they're hardly worthy of you tonight. My god you look gorgeous." The view of her from behind had been divine, when she had turned to face him he was profoundly moved, but it was the love in her eyes that sent him over the edge.

"We'll always have Paris," She whispered while bringing her curved mouth to his. "Happy Birthday, Nick."

As their eyes closed and their lips met, the bustling sounds of The Strip faded away and during that glorious kiss on this special first birthday they celebrated together, they both dreamed of all the birthdays they'd celebrate in the future… not only theirs but those of the future generation they would create together.

"I love you, Baby," Nick whispered as he kept his forehead pressed to Carrie's. "Thank you for making this night so special."

"I love you, too," She answered in a dreamy sigh. "And this is only the beginning."

**Greg's Apartment  
****7:32 p.m. **

Sitting at the kitchen table with Tawny and his mom, enjoying his favorite home cooked meal of Chicken Fajitas with refried beans, Greg couldn't remember the last time he felt this content. To his left, he had a woman who loved him deeply and on his right he had the same. To make matters infinitely better, they liked each other.

"Greg, Honey…" Bev lowered her beer bottle and asked in a motherly tone, "…when was the last time you ate today because if you shovel that food into your mouth any faster…"

"Twenty-one rounds of Boggle increases your appetite…" Tawny deadpanned "…and Greg told me earlier that he's never played _so much_ Boggle so _frequently _as he has lately."

Lowering his fork, Greg announced to the two women laughing like hyenas, "Have you noticed that you have the same twisted sense of humor, particularly when it comes to tweaking me?"

Bev winked at Tawny. "Yes, we discussed it earlier today." It was just another reason to love the girl and hope this relationship worked out for her son.

"Your mom is totally cool, Greg, I completely understand why she's such a popular teacher at her high school. She can be all business when it's necessary, but she lets her hair down and has fun at every opportunity." Tawny lunged for another tortilla as she spoke. "My dad was the same way…the kids loved having him for math. The other Algebra teacher, Mrs. Kelly, was a real stiff. There's a plaque in my old high school commemorating my dad and under his picture it says, 'Mr. Cooper – We loved you because you made math fun!'. Your mom and he would get along great if he were…" And with her last word, she found herself completely swamped with emotion. "Sorry…um…I need to use the bathroom…"

Stunned by the zero to sixty emotional turn, Greg watched her hurry away from the table.

Squeezing her son's hand, Bev said, "She told me earlier today that while she's having a great time having me visit, seeing you and I together is a reminder of her loss."

"Oh." Greg sat there contemplating what to do about the situation and what to say.

Playfully smacking her son upside the head, Bev instructed, "Your significant other just left the room about to burst into tears, what are you still doing sitting here? I know you've never been in love before, but haven't you seen this scenario in movies? Whenever a woman leaves your side crying, don't hesitate, follow her immediately."

"I don't know what to say or do to make her feel better," He lamented. "How can I fix this for her? I mean so far all the problems have been fixable. Like she couldn't make her rent if she stopped dancing, so I asked her to move in. Or when she wondered if she was still good at school, so I set her up with online courses and encouraged her. But this…her father's gone and…"

Sighing she said, "Men…you're wired to believe you have to 'fix' everything. Women…we don't expect everything to be fixed, we just want someone to listen and provide a little comfort when we're emotional. This is a problem that can't _ever _be fixed, Greg, and it's not going away any time soon so you need to get used to it. _When_ you ask Tawny to marry you, she'll eventually get emotional about not having her dad there for the wedding…" Bev wasn't too proud to use the lecture for her own selfish gains. "…the _real _wedding you're going to have, not a drive-thru chapel hoax. And after _your baby_ with her is born, she'll wish her dad could see his grandchild and she'll mourn all over again." Now Bev started to tear up. "How could Becca think you were sweet and sensitive if you don't know this stuff?"

"Oh, don't you cry too…" Greg grabbed a napkin and handed it to her, wondering how Nick managed to survive not drowning growing up with _five_ sisters and a mother under the same roof for years because a mother and a girlfriend had almost flooded the apartment in less than six hours.

"Thank you." After accepting the napkin, she slapped him upside the head again. "Never comfort your mother before your significant other. I'm second now, remember? So, would you get your ass in there already because the girl has probably soaked a pillow by now! Remember…don't try to fix anything because it's highly irritating to a woman when the problem is unfixable…just comfort her. All she needs right now is for you to make her feel loved and secure."

Getting up from the table he hurried to the bedroom and knocked on the door. "Tawny…"

"You don't knock, Gregory! Woman don't want to interrupt their breakdowns to answer inane questions." His mother droned from the kitchen. "Take the lead, walk in and start comforting."

Doing as told, he opened the door and sure enough, he found Tawny's face in a pillow sobbing her heart out.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed he whispered, "Hey…" After a few strokes of her hair he said, "I know it's a little hard seeing me with my mom because it reminds you of your dad's loss…and I know there's nothing I can do to fix the problem, but I want you to know I'm here any time you need someone to hold you and listen."

In a flash, she had her arms around him, crying on his shoulder. "You know just what I'm thinking and what I need, Greg!"

For a moment he contemplated giving his mom credit, but ultimately decided to keep his mouth shut and just provide the loving comfort and attentive ear Tawny needed. When she eventually purged her emotions and pulled back slightly, he moved her damp hair off her tear drenched face and soulfully asked, "Feel better?"

"Yeah." A slight smile returned to her face. "Thank you. You're the best."

It was an odd feeling really…after spending every day at work doing things to solve problems and never getting thanked, now he found himself doing absolutely nothing and not fixing anything, but being greatly appreciated. "You're welcome."

"Sorry I ruined the happy dinner with my drama." She sniffled and when she saw Greg's shirt, she added, "And for ruining your shirt with my mascara. The new stuff isn't waterproof. I probably shouldn't wear it while I'm pregnant, huh?"

Smiling sweetly, he used his thumb to wipe away the black smudges under her eyes. "Probably not." He paused to peck her lips with a kiss.

"Aww…Greg." She threw her arms around him. "You really are a sweet and sensitive guy."

"Uh oh." There were the two dreaded words coming from a girl's mouth.

"Don't worry…you'll still be getting lucky." She giggled, feeling her usual light mood returning.

"Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief. Then, glancing down at the soaked pillow Tawny had left behind, he teased, "Hey, we better change the sheets before my mom gets suspicious."

Two minutes later, Greg walked out of the bedroom, carrying the bundle of mascara and tear stained linens and proceeded to walk through the kitchen, past his mother, to the laundry area tucked behind a folding door in the corner of the room. "She's feeling _much _better," He assured Bev who was looking on a bit disgusted. And after letting his mother loathe him for a few seconds, he explained, "You were right…she soaked the pillow case with her tears before I got there. Next time, I'll follow her immediately and then I'll have less laundry." The feeling of a tortilla smacking him on the back of the head cracked him up.

Getting up from the table, Bev joined her son. "You did exactly what I said, she loved you for it and you didn't give me any credit for telling you what to say or do, did you?"

"Exactly." He reached for the laundry soap smiling.

"Good boy." She took a swig of her Corona and said, "Now…let's discuss how to respond once she starts popping out and asks the infamous question, _Honey, do you still think I'm as attractive as I was before I looked pregnant?_ Because the truth is **not** an option, trust me. Repeat after me…_Honey, you look even more gorgeous because you're carrying our beautiful baby inside you._"

"Let's hope I can say that." He shuddered thinking about the alternative. "So, what do I say in that scenario if it's not my baby?"

Placing her hand on his shoulder Bev sighed, "Sweetie, if it's not your baby and you still love her and want her in your life, I don't think you'll have to worry about impressing her with the little silly stuff for a while."

"She's not going anywhere," He said confidently for the first time as he shut the lid of the washer. "I never would have told her I loved her if I couldn't deal."

"Becca was a fool," She snipped as she hugged her son. "Her divorce to that hotshot plastic surgeon was finalized in March. Just goes to show you…she let the best one get away back in high school. She's lucky I'm not a catty woman or I'd rub it in her face when I see her at the club next week during tennis league."

"Please don't say anything to her, if you do, she'll think I'm still crushing on her. I'm glad she didn't think of me as boyfriend material. You know the saying…" He smiled over his mother's shoulder when he saw Tawny enter the room with her face washed and her happiness intact. "…thank heaven for unanswered prayers."

**The Eiffel Tower Restaurant  
****8:17 p.m. **

The romantic atmosphere of the intimate restaurant paled in comparison to the love flowing between Nick and Carrie as they sat sipping champagne and gazing into each other's eyes. The view from the window they were seated by provided a bird's eye view of The Strip but they couldn't remove their gaze from one another long enough to appreciate it.

Taking his fiancée's hand, Nick murmured, "I'm thinking we need to make time to get out more." He brushed a kiss over the back of her silky skin. "Playing dress up with you is rocking my world."

"We work so hard," She whispered as she placed her hand over his. "We deserve to play hard too." That's exactly what she was hoping to do in about thirty minutes. The 2nd bottle of champagne they had almost finished was helping her find the confidence to summon Roxie…the uninhibited plaything her fiancé would no doubt enjoy after months of sweet lovin'. He was everything she could ever want in a lover…tender to an extreme, always attentive to her needs…and anatomically blessed Staring into his eyes, she recalled how sweet he was their first night together…

_In her new apartment,_ _unpacking her boxes from Seattle, Carrie glanced over and saw Nick screwing a light bulb into the living room ceiling fan. "Watch yourself, Stokes," She warned, "You don't have that ladder open all the way." _

"_Are you afraid I'll sue you?" He teased, loving the ever-present lawyer in her. It reminded him of being around his litigious family which now included one judge and four attorneys. "Baby, the only thing I'll ever seek damages for from you is a broken heart." _

"_Smooooooooth." She rolled her eyes. "You know if I… OH!" She shrieked as the ladder collapsed and Nick went sailing through the air, luckily landing face down on the new leather sofa instead of the glass-top coffee table. "Are you okay!" She rushed to his side. _

"_Other than a severe bruise to my ego, I'm fine." Rolling onto his side he looked up at the beautiful woman laughing at him and said, "Yeah…I recall from the first night we met how much a guy humiliating himself turns you on." _

"_That's right." She chuckled heartily. "Tell me where it hurts and I'll kiss it and make it better." _

"_Definitely here." He pointed to his mouth. "Somethin' awful." _

_Leaning over, she caressed his lips with a delicious kiss, tinged with the flavor of the Snickers bar they had shared minutes earlier. "Better?" _

"_No, ma'am." Wrapping his arms around her, he eased her down on the couch for a snuggle. "Maybe one more will do it." _

_The feel of his muscular body pressed to hers, combined with the smell of his cologne mixing with the perspiration of physical labor drove her mind and body wild. As the minutes passed…minutes filled with passionate kisses and soft caresses, she felt her resistance breaking down. While her body was desperate to take the plunge with this incredibly sexy man pressed up against her… her cautious brain pushed back._

_You've only known him six weeks she reminded herself as their kiss deepened, and half that time you were in Seattle and he was here. You're not an impulsive girl she chided while rejoicing from the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around her grateful body. He's Smooth Stokes, a self-professed ladies man only recently turned one-woman guy. How will you ever compete with the memory of all those other experienced women? She whimpered as he delicately shifted their bodies into a more tantalizing position. _

_With Nick's latest smooth move, her emotions and her debate intensified. Your experience fills a thimble while his could overflow Hoover Dam! Case in point, in less than fifteen minutes he has your body melting like butter on a steaming ear of corn! You're not thinking straight because you have only been with two sweet, but woefully inexperienced guys your whole life…a far cry from the hunk sharing the same air with you right now. And to make matters worse, you haven't been with anyone in years! You're desperate and that desperation is making you take a risk you wouldn't normally take. Let go of those burly shoulders of his…pull yourself away from his rock solid physique…and for the love of god, stop kissing him like he's heading off to war tomorrow! Think with your head, Carrie! Stop! "Nick um…" A nervous smile fanned out over her lips. "Could we um…take a breather?" _

_After catching his breath, he stroked her hair, whispering, "Sorry…I know we said we weren't going to rush into this. I blame my near-death experience earlier and the fact that I'm madly in love with you." A quick rock of their bodies and he was once again with his back to the couch and she was no longer pinned beneath him. "I'm going to need a few minutes to recover before I can walk across the room and get back to work." After a minute, he gently prodded, "I'm not going to make much progress recovering until you to let go of me, Sweetheart."_

"_Oh!" She realized that her arms and one of her legs were still firmly clamped around him, pinning him to her. "Apparently my mind and body aren't in agreement over how to handle this situation." _

_Their faces only inches apart, he leaned in and brushed his words over her lips. "Apparently your body is the more influential of the two, because you don't appear to be going anywhere. Is there something on your mind?"_

"_Many…many things," She giggled lightly from another perilous shift of his hands and hips. "This feels so good, Nicky, but…I'm uh…" Engaging his eyes she confessed, "…I'm a little…nervous…you know why." _

"_That makes two of us," He whispered before blanketing her lips with a tender kiss. "This is a big step for us. You're everything I've ever wanted in a woman, Carrie, and I don't want to mess anything up. I want this…" He sweetly chuckled. "Well, I think it's painfully obvious how much I want this but, only if you're 100 percent ready." _

_Unable to ignore his body's eagerness she blurted, "It's very_ _obvious how much you want this, and I'm finding it simultaneously highly encouraging and extremely intimidating." She felt a deeper shade of red flush her cheeks as her desire and nerves battled to see who could build faster. "Oh god this is so…" With her eyes she begged him to help her past her insecurities. "I want to…um…"_

"_What do want, Carrie?" His eyes studied hers as he made sure she knew where he stood. "It's all up to you." _

_The tender tenor of his voice and the steady gaze of his loving eyes sent her over the edge. "Nick…" _

_In a voice as soft as his caresses, he assured her, "You're safe with me. I'll take care of you…I always will." Running his fingers through her hair he murmured, "Do you believe me, Carrie? Do you trust me?"_

"_Yes." Her breathing quickened along with her heart rate. "More than any man I've ever met." _

_In that moment as their eyes locked and their hearts beat in the same loud erratic rhythm, Carrie's mind caught up with her body. "I believe the ceiling fan in the bedroom needs a light bulb too. I'll go with you just in case…" Her words ceased when Nick stood and swept her up in his arms. And as he whisked her to the bedroom like the romantic she always dreamed he'd be, her mind kindly informed her to stop thinking and let her body and Nick's experience take it from there. _

"Baby…" Nick gently turned his fiancée's face away from the window and back toward his. "Have you heard anything I said?"

"Sorry…" Roused from the memory, she leaned in to capture his lips with a lingering kiss. "I'm sorry, what were you saying, Nicky?"

"Hell if I can remember now," He teased while glancing around the dining room. "Honey, there's no need to give the patrons a show." Taking her hand, he said, "Let's move the rest of this celebration behind closed doors."

"I'll get the check," She answered in a pleasure-fused sigh.

"I already paid the bill," He quickly informed her. "That's what I was telling you when you were lost in the view."

"I was lost in a memory," She quickly corrected. "Of us."

In a husky whisper he suggested, "Well then…let's go make some new ones."

"Wait…you paid the bill?" A frown captured her smile. "You weren't supposed to do that, this is your birthday celebration."

"Trust me…I don't mind." Standing, he placed his hand on the back of her chair to assist her in sliding it out and rising to her feet. Once again he was in awe of her beauty in the delicate black dress she wore so well. "More beautiful than when we arrived…not that I know how it's possible."

"Oh…" Once again she was swooning. He was _so_ on tonight…smooth but not smarmy, in control but not pushy and most importantly…romancing her uncontrollably. Romance…it was the one area of her life where she gave up the lead and checked her feminist sensibilities at the door. After playing the hard-ass take no prisoners feminist attorney seventy hours a week it was always a welcome change of pace.

"Come on." After grazing a kiss over her cheek he laced his fingers with hers and led her out of the restaurant. "I can't wait another second."

She knew what he meant and a nervous smile twittered across her face. "Me either." When they reached the elevator, Carrie winced as a stab of insecurity pinged through her but quickly reminded herself that it was about time she gave him a little extra effort.

"Is everything okay?" Nick inquired with concern in his voice for the first time tonight. "All of a sudden you look nervous." Honestly she looked as nervous as she had the first night they spent together.

Just thinking about that night triggered a series of phenomenal memories…each releasing a flash of pleasure in his mind which coursed through his body. Everything about that night was thrilling. The electric look in her eyes, a mixture of excitement and trepidation…the way her breath caught in her throat every time he touched a new starving area on her beautiful body…the feel of her hands as they gripped his shoulders for security…the sound of her voice calling his name while she shuddered against him…and the trembling _yes, please don't stop _she whispered when he paused to confirm at the last minute if she was sure.

It was all about being in control for Nick. Not in the sense that he needed to forcefully show a woman who's boss. On the contrary, it was about the lady desiring him to take the lead, and in exchange for her freely giving it, he gave back tenfold…through tenderness, attention and satisfaction. Never disrespecting the lady and always ensuring she enjoyed every minute of his company until he rode off into the sunset.

That first night with Carrie was a perfect experience in his eyes. Although he had experienced similar feelings with other women, it had never been close to the magnitude he did with Carrie. She gave him everything he needed to feel powerful in bed. When she was nervous, she let him assure her…which he did lovingly. When she was naïve, she let him guide her…which he did gently. When she was ready, she trusted him to take care of her…which he did expertly. And when she finally lost control, she let him know how fantastic he made her feel…which _she _did loudly. It was absolute perfection and the good news was it felt as wonderful every time they were together since.

With her overwhelming need for security, she would _never _want him to be powerless in bed, and after being terrified by that feeling once, two and a half decades ago, it wasn't a place he ever wanted to return. So he and Carrie were the perfect combination in his mind. Perfect.

"I'm fine…I was feeling bad about you paying the check that's all. I'm over it now," Carrie finally forged an upbeat tone as they stepped into the empty elevator together. "Yes, now I'm just counting the seconds until I have you in our room and you tell me your decision…leather or lace."

When he opened his mouth to answer and end the silly feigned suspense, he was met with the fingers of his fiancée's hand.

"Not here," She scolded while blushing. "I know you're chomping at the bit, Trigger, but I'm going to make you wait until we get to our room."

"Yes, ma'am." He backed off, grinning at her determination to keep up the charade. As if she didn't know what he'd pick. As if she had actually needed to buy some sleazy leather outfit from Lady Heather's boutique of tramp trash. Chuckling, he leaned back against the elevator wall. "Making me wait, huh? Looks like you're already showing me who's boss."

Much to her surprise she easily chimed in the lusty banter, playfully tipping her hand. "That's right, Mister. Tonight I'll be cracking the whip and you'll like it."

He rapidly lobbed the next joking retort. "Baby, I can't wait to see you sporting leather and ordering me to lick your boots." Just saying it out loud made his stomach flip with displeasure. "I can hardly stand the thought of it!" He announced in a faked lusty tone while meaning it _literally._

Carrie plastered on her best Roxie smile. "In less than fifteen minutes you won't have to think about it…you'll be living it."

When the elevator doors opened, Nick stepped into the hall and continued the randy ruse. "What are you waiting for woman? Shake your ass out here! It's time to show this cowboy you know your way around the rawhide." He felt like he should shower for talking to the future mother of his children in such a perverse manner but since she was enjoying the offbeat humor he continued, "Hey, you _better_ giddy up! 'Cause it's my party and I'm ready for the ride you promised!"

Strutting past him she shrilled, "Yee-Haw!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Feasibility Study  
****Written by Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT**

"**Birthday Boys – Part 8"**

**August 17, 2005 (Day 117)  
****Greg's Apartment  
****8:24 p.m. **

Sitting on the couch in the living room flanked by Tawny on one side and Greg on the other, Bev started flipping through the photo album she had brought with her from home. She brought it to share if things went well with Tawny and since the girl had exceeded her expectations in every way, she was ready to impart a little Greg history.

With his back against the couch and his head pointed to the ceiling, Greg announced, "Okay, I'm going to render myself unconscious to avoid this guaranteed embarrassment-fest. Rouse me in time for my shift so the good people of Clark County don't suffer from the lack of my presence at the lab."

"Oh please, you're exaggerating." Bev winked at Tawny. "What makes you think I could embarrass you, son? After all…you were such a _normal _child, what could possibly be in here?"

Opening the book to the first page, she showed Greg's full-frontal nudity baby picture to Tawny and wasted no time launching the first tortuous remark. "Look, Tawny…pretty humble beginnings, huh?"

Joining Bev in the assault, Tawny dreamily replied, "But my how he's grown."

"That's it!" Greg leapt from the couch. "I'm taking a walk. There's no way I'm sticking around to hear the comments when you show her the one of me dressed in your heels and bra! Or the one where I taped a construction paper tail to my naked ass so I could run around the neighborhood on all fours begging for biscuits!"

Bev looked over at her hysterical son and sweetly replied, "I took those out so I wouldn't embarrass you, Dear."

"Oh." He gulped. "Now I'm definitely taking that walk." While his mother and Tawny buckled over with laughter he headed out the door.

When she caught her breath, Tawny said, "Maybe you could show me those when I come to California."

"Oh you don't have to wait, they're still in here." She flipped through the pages. "Here he is as Rover the smut pup, shaking his construction paper tail in front of Mrs. Lennox's door. It was a bit much even for California standards. Thankfully one of the neighbors kindly snapped the blackmail photo for me to add to my collection. Hard to believe he's a genius, huh?"

"Nah…geniuses are always a little twisted, aren't they?" She smirked. "And they usually have very over-active imaginations which is always a good thing."

**The Grissoms'  
****8:35 p.m. **

Sitting in the formal dining room enjoying the special birthday dinner, Sara and Ron had shouldered the majority of the conversation while Gil spent his time observing and analyzing every word flowing from his father's mouth.

"Tell me Sara…is my son always this verbose at the dinner table?" Ron teased while lifting his water glass. "Or was it your delicious casserole keeping him too busy to talk?"

"It depends on his mood." Grinning at her husband, Sara decided to maintain the playfulness. "You should have witnessed some of our conversations before we hooked up. I blabbered incessantly trying to flirt with him, while he'd stand there gaping like a fish until he managed to spout a very articulate…_um_." Her glance returned to Ron. "He definitely didn't inherit your gift for the gab."

Finally Gil chimed in. "I believe that gift is transferred through nurture, not nature." Smiling, he added, "But I don't consider it much of a loss because if I was raised as more of a talker than an observer, I probably wouldn't have been as successful at my job."

"Touché," Ron commented before polishing off his last bite of casserole.

"Ready for some birthday dessert?" Sara sweetly asked as she stood and cleared the dinner plates. Cognizant that things were going much better than she had envisioned, Sara realized Gil was tiring from being on guard all evening and wanted to expedite matters so he could relax a little before heading to work. "It's a healthy yet slightly decadent chocolate cake that I made from scratch…with Wendy's guidance."

"Sounds great, Honey," Gil replied while a little unnerved by his usually domestically awkward wife's sudden ease at playing June Cleaver.

Before leaving the room she asked, "So, you're sure the casserole is exactly the same?" She knew Wendy was waiting with baited breath to find out if she had successfully revamped the recipe.

Without hesitation, Gil responded, "A carbon copy, thank you again for the nostalgic gift."

After winking she floated out of the room basking in her success.

"Hey, you just_ lied_ to your wife," Ron remarked before cracking a smirk. "It wasn't _exactly_ the same. Sara cut the vegetables in long vertical strips while your mother insisted they be chopped horizontally in big chunks. I know this because I tried to help her once and she flipped out when I did it like Sara. Jillian was so anal retentive when it came to cooking."

Raising his glass, Gil explained, "Sara is a perfectionist and would have been disappointed if I told her the difference. Since it doesn't impact the taste of the casserole and there's no way she'd ever find out unless you or I told her…I thought it was the right thing to do. Besides…the way vegetables are chopped doesn't matter to me." _At least not anymore_, he silently added for his own benefit. Especially not after you reminded me I act like a woman in regards to certain things.

"Before Sara returns there's something I want to ask you, son." Ron settled back in his chair and spoke candidly. "Listening to Sara talk about the foster kids backpack program got my businessman/philanthropic wheels turning. I have some ideas I'd like to share with her but, I want to make sure you're okay with me sticking my nose into your wife's life. If you're not comfortable just say the word and I'll drop it."

"I'm sure you could provide a great deal of expert technical guidance on the matter," Gil factually replied. "And no, I don't mind."

"Great!" He was surprised how quickly his untrusting son agreed.

Leaning forward, Gil lowered his voice to a chilly tone, "But heed this warning…the fastest way out of my life _for good_, is to do anything to hurt or disappoint Sara. After almost a year in the therapy she's finally opening up and trusting people…a little too much for my taste but I'm not going to stop her. She's building a little pseudo family out of friends…she's even signed up our neighbor to play her grandma. I fully expect my wife to want to latch onto you because you're a father figure and you will be the biological grandfather to her child should we be lucky enough to have one soon." He took his voice a notch deeper. "Don't you dare take advantage of that, and don't manipulate her in any way. She's been betrayed enough by people who were supposed to be looking out for her…I include myself in the group in case you're wondering if I'm a hypocrite. But I've learned my lesson and now, not only won't I betray her, I will go after anyone who hurts her." Narrowing his gaze, he firmly asked, "Do we have an understanding?"

"Crystal clear." For the second time that evening, Ron extended his hand. "It's a promise."

Gil accepted the gesture then settled back in his chair, breathing out and reaching for his water glass.

After clearing his throat, Ron lightened his tone. "If you have a daughter, you'll want to mirror that exact tone and look when you're threatening her boyfriend…it's very effective…quite testosterone infused."

"See…I don't always respond like a woman like you insinuated earlier." That comment was still ruminating in his mind. Annoying as it was, he couldn't deny its truth.

"Hey, I was quite clear that it was limited to only one particularly scenario and, you know it's true." Ron chuckled, "Anyway, isn't it a fatherly thing to try and toughen up his son?"

"I hired a personal trainer for that," Gil quipped before catching Sara returning with a small chocolate cake.

Sara breezed into the room carrying the aforementioned chocolate treat. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna stick a candle in it and embarrass you," She announced while placing the cake on the table. There was no need to do that tonight because she'd be doing it on Saturday in front of his friends when it would really make him squirm.

"Looks wonderful, Dear," Ron assured the budding chef. "Hey, when you were in the kitchen, I mentioned to Gil that I have a few ideas about your backpack project rolling around in my bored retiree head. He thought you might like to hear them." This way she would know he wasn't attempting a sneak attack.

"Sure," She answered with anticipation, now that she knew her husband had blessed the idea. While slicing three pieces of cake she remarked, "Now that we have money, I'd love to know how we can make the most of it to reach the most kids."

Gil resumed his role as critical observer, listening to the two of them talk.

"First things first," Ron said as he drove his fork into the moist cake. "You need to come up with a name for your project and set it up as a non-profit charitable organization."

"A name…" Sara pondered the question. "You know, Nick and I have tried to sit down and get organized but we always get busy at work or personally and then don't follow through. Up until now we've been winging the whole thing. It's not that we don't have the passion for it, we're just not familiar with what it takes. Any suggestions?"

"Regarding the name, how about **B-PAC**, standing for _Bringing Peace and Comfort_ which also looks like an abbreviation for the word, 'backpack'. Bringing peace and comfort to kids is the purpose of your packs, right?"

"I love that!" Sara gushed with enthusiasm. "It fits perfectly."

"Terrific." Ron glanced over at his son who was eyeing him like a rabbit watching a coyote.

Her excitement halted momentarily. "Wait, this isn't right. I need to include Nick since we're partners in this project. It's not fair to make decisions without considering his input and giving him a vote." Looking over at her wary husband Sara absently asked, "Would it be okay for Nick to meet your father?" She regretted asking the question in front of Ron the moment the words left her lips.

"Um…" He hadn't considered the possibility of the two worlds colliding.

Sara tried to backpedal, "You know I bet Nick wouldn't mind me relaying…"

"Actually I'm returning to Florida tomorrow for a Board meeting," Ron announced, while watching for his son's reaction. When he saw Gil's eyes and body language reflect surprise and disappointment, he was pleased. "I'm retired from the trenches, but I still like to know what's going on with my corporation and my money. But…" He looked his son in the eyes. "I'd love to return next week if I'm welcome."

Sara waited with baited breath, hoping she was masking her feelings well enough so her husband wouldn't be influenced by her.

One glimpse of the mixture of hope and desperation in his wife's eyes was all it took for Gil to acquiesce. "I think it would be great if you could return and assist Sara and Nick in expanding their project, because there are plenty of kids out there in need of peace and comfort."

Ron admired his son's crafty reply. He was saying yes but on behalf of _the_ _needy children._ The answer he was dying to know but wouldn't ask was…did Gil include himself as one who would benefit from his father's return? "Then it's settled. I'll return next week."

**Paris Hotel  
****Room 714  
****8:41 p.m. **

Reaching into her purse, Carrie fished out the room key. In the time it had taken them to arrive at the door she had refocused on her goal of breaking through her inhibitions and taking a walk on the wild side.

Being a perfectionist and a hyper-organized person, she had reviewed her role-play outlined in her head several times and felt confident that she could rise to the challenge and finally please her man in a new and exciting way. Once inside, she took Nick's hand, guiding him over to the bed displaying the two diverse garments.

Upon arriving next to the bed Nick was shocked to see a sleazy leather studded corset spread out next to a stunningly sexy delicate white lace garment which he was almost certain was the handiwork of La Perla.

"Okay, Baby," She caught his ear with her sultry tone. "What's it gonna be? Leather or Lace?"

Slipping his arms around her waist he sweetly whispered, "Beautiful, I'm dying to see you in that lacy white..."

"What!" Much to her surprise as well as her man's, Carrie jumped back and took offense. "I can't believe you picked lace! Do you have _any idea_ the amount of work and mental anguish I've suffered over these plans! I spent an hour today developing my alter-ego, I practiced my moves, I even got comfortable hearing a few usually off-limits words come out of my mouth. I can't believe you picked lace! You can't! You have to pick leather! I planned on leather!"

Stunned by his fiancée's tirade, Nick gaped. "Honey…what has gotten into…"

"I know what this is about!" Fueled by champagne and insecurities, she paced in front of him. "You don't think I'm capable of pulling it off so why bother?" Her active imagination snowballed. "Or is it that you don't think I can handle it? OH! I can handle it, Cowboy! Because I know how this works. Sure, for now you're content with my sexual range, but one day you'll end up in a _dog collar_ at Lady Heather's because I can't be a _bitch _in the bedroom."

"What in god's name are you talking about?" Everyone he worked with knew how Lady Heather's and places like those squicked him to an extreme. "I thought you were kidding about the leather. I was just joking with you in the elevator. You don't think I'd actually talk to you like…"

"_Why_ did you pick lace!" Posturing in front of him with her hands planted on her hips she demanded, "Just say it, Nicky! Tell me why I'm not fit to wear leather!"

Rattled by her intensity and unable to deal with his own demons and articulate the truth at the moment, he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Uh…because it was the _second choice_ and that's what I'm used to pickin' when you ask me about wedding stuff."

"What!" She stopped to think about it, reviewing all the wedding choices she had given him over the last few days. "Oh my god! You _do_ always pick the second choice. You're not even thinking about it...you just automatically go with the second choice!"

Matching her posture, he snipped, "Yes, and do you know _why_?"

"Because you don't care!" She snapped.

"No! Because _I know_ I don't _really _have an opinion! Because you already know what you want and that's the way it's going to be." Grabbing his head he blurted, "I can hear every single one of my sisters screaming in my mind not to say this but I'm going to say it anyway. Why the hell do you bother giving me choices if you already know which one you want? It's illogical! It's a _god damn frustrating waste of my time_ AND it makes me think you don't respect me. I'd _never_ treat you that way! I'd never give you two choices about something without both being acceptable options. When I asked you to marry me I prayed you'd say yes, but if you chose to say no, I wasn't going to club you over the head and drag you to the chapel! When I have a strong opinion about something you know I'm honest with you. Like when you asked me about my position on women working after having kids. I told you I was fine with it, that my mother raised us while tearing up the courtroom. How would you like it if after you had our first baby you found out I was hoodwinking you and fully intended to force you into the opposite choice? See, I respect you but you don't respect me."

Miffed by his words and the realization that their evening had jumped off the love track to Romanceland and crashed in Bickerville, she grumbled, "I can't believe this is happening!"

Flustered, Nick was happy to clarify the situation. "Believe it because I'm really pissed off right now! It's my birthday for cryin' out loud. You write me a great note giving me two options and then I can't even choose what I want and get it. What the hell is that all about? And on top of all that, what makes you think I want to see you tramped out in some trashy leather outfit anyway? Why are you so hell bent on me picking leather? I thought you knew me better. How could you think that you wearing that stuff and forcing yourself on me would turn me on?"

"I don't WANT you to pick leather!" She confessed in a heated shrill. "I prefer lace!"

"What!" Now he was certain she was going off the deep-end _or_ that one of the chefs had laced her lobster with hallucinogens. "We're standing here arguing because I chose lace instead of leather and now you're telling me you wanted me to pick _lace_? What the hell, Carrie? Help me out here 'cause you're trippin' and I'm not trackin'!"

In her loudest response yet, she barked, "I'm just trying to make you happy on your birthday dammit!"

"Do I _look_ like I'm happy!" He frustratedly replied. "I _was _happy…I was on cloud nine-hundred and ninety-nine and then we stepped into this room and entered the Twilight Zone. Is there something you're not telling me about our love life? Am I not giving you something you need?"

"No! I love our love life. I wouldn't change a thing about it if it was up to me but, I don't want you to keep suffering because I'm too inhibited."

Again he felt two miles behind. "When have I _ever _said you were too inhibited or that I was suffering in any way?"

She quickly explained his behavior to him. "You didn't, but only because you don't want to hurt my feelings."

In awe of her assumptions, he kindly asked, "And you know this because you read my mind _when_?"

Choking on laughter, she blurted, "Oh come on, Nicky…you've been with how many women? I think it's safe to say I'm not the best by far."

"Yes you are!" Reaching out he grabbed her hands. "You are! I don't define 'best' by tricks. Damn…how long have you been worried about this and not told me?"

Riding the crest of her insecurities, she defensively replied, "Probably as long as you've been worried our love life's too mundane. How long has that been?"

"Never!" He tossed his hands in frustration. "That's my point here. I thought things were perfect and then I walked into this alternative universe and got blindsided with all this…ugh."

For the first time she actually saw beyond her own panic and realized he was telling the truth.

Replanting his hands on his hips, Nick tossed his cards on the table. "Here's the deal…last week you sat me down and said I don't always have to be strong for you, that it's okay to be vulnerable and lean on you after a hard day at work. We had a long talk and I agreed that I need to work on that but, you know what…you need to work on something too. You need to be able to just come on out and say what's really on your mind, because I hate the idea of not knowing what you're thinking. I deal with that all day at work…staring down a suspect trying to read their mind, second guessing myself, fearing I'll make the wrong assumption. I don't want to do it at home too. If you want teal napkins then you say, Nick, I really want teal napkins is that okay with you? If I have a different opinion _I promise_ I'll speak up and share it. If I don't care…and _yes,_ I should be allowed not to have an opinion….then I want to be able to say, _great _and move on without you accusing me of not being excited about the wedding. Because trust me, I look at the calendar every day counting down the minutes until we're husband and wife. How does that sound, Counselor? Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes!"

"Good!" Extending his arms, he softened his tone. "Now give me a hug 'cause I'm hurtin' a little? How's that for oozing vulnerability?"

"Not too shabby." She answered by slipping into his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"What are _you_ sorry for?" She asked, while glancing up at her fiancé. "I'm the control freak who pretends to give you options and tells you what you're thinking even when you're not."

"Well…when you put it that way," He chuckled momentarily then continued to apologize. "No…I really am sorry that I yelled but, you were yelling at me and freaking me out with this sudden craving for leather and aggression. You threw me good…and it wasn't a place I wanted to land." Gently cupping her face he explained, "There are two things that I can't handle in bed…the first one is being aggressively overpowered and vulnerable. It's baggage from being abused and yeah I'm sure I could spend years in therapy getting over it but, unless it's something you need me to do, I'm _very_ content not addressing it. I don't feel I'm losing anything because I can't let you tie me up."

"No…you don't have to go to therapy." Feeling relieved to retire Roxie before she even got started she confessed, "It's not something I need in the least. I have to play the domineering bitch all day at work, so I treasure the change of pace in the bedroom. That's why I love being with you, Nick. You make me feel loved and safe and dare I say it…feminine." Grinning she warned, "Just don't tell the uber-feminists I work with because they might jump me in the restroom for selling out."

"Your secret is safe with me." He brushed a kiss over her smile.

After returning the kiss, she whispered, "Now tell me the second thing so I know not to surprise you with it on your next birthday."

Relieved to hear number one was a permanently closed issue, he could finally relax, feeling confident she wouldn't have a problem with number two. "I suppose this could be classified as baggage too and I'm sure that sick pup Freud would have a field day with me if he were alive but here goes…I have five sisters and a mother I love…I _can't_…I absolutely can not stomach, thinking of women as whores or treating them that way, not even in role play. So those words you practiced…please don't ever say them. I was raised a gentleman and I'm not apologizing for it. You have this crazy idea in your head just because I've been with a lot of women that I'm looking for kink, but I'm not…never was. I'll even prove my point by confessing something that most women wouldn't want to hear but, I'm thinking it will be strangely appealing to you considering your insistence on showing compassion to misguided women. I uh…I had a friend once, a working girl, someone who fulfilled guys' most perverse fantasies nightly if you get my drift. In her off hours, she liked hanging with me because I treated her sweet when everyone else treated her like trash. Believe me, if there was something twisted I wanted she would have obliged but, I never asked. It's not in me and I don't care if I'm the only guy in this whole warped city that feels this way, it's the way I am."

"I don't think I've ever loved you more, Nick," Carrie gushed while tossing her arms around her future husband's neck. "I don't want you to change one bit."

He wrapped his arms around her pulling her close. "And you can get as sexy as you want to be, Baby, just _please _don't go to those two places I mentioned."

"If you insist," She teased. "I've already decided I'm officially retiring Roxie and tossing her corset in the trash."

"Roxie?" He chuckled at the silly name. "I'm really glad I didn't get to meet her."

"So…" Stroking his cheek with her fingertips, she demurely asked, "Are you ready for a little more champagne and a lot of _lace_, Birthday Boy?"

In his best honorable cowboy voice, he joked, "Yes, ma'am. That would be swell."

"Oh, now I've got your number, Stokes." Playfully she pushed him away from her and used Sara's words, with a little embellishment. "You're a certified straight-shooter who moseyed with plenty of lil' ladies but, you always liked to ride your white horse in an out of Dodge the same way. You used to love 'em good and leave 'em quick but one day, you found a filly worthy enough to lasso." She waved her engagement ring. "And now all you want to do is make that special lady happy night after night after night until the very last sunset on the OK Corral."

"_Now _you sound like you know me." At the edge of the bed, he scooped up the lacy lingerie. "You want some choices, Baby?"

"Yes."

Dangling the garment in front of her, he provided the options… "We can make passionate love all night long until you beg me to stop _or_…"

"I pick the first one!"

**Greg's Apartment  
****9:22 p.m. **

After walking his mom to her car, Greg strolled into the bedroom with the Pretty Woman video Tawny requested in hand. Ready to settle in for the night and watch the movie, nothing could have prepared him for the shock he felt upon entering the room. There standing before him was his significant other wearing the most hideously unflattering floor-length granny nightgown made out of a horrid shiny beige colored fabric which was printed with seven varieties of obnoxious house cats. "Oh!" He hoped his retinas weren't permanently scarred.

"Do you like it?" Tawny asked sweetly. "Your mom bought it for me. She said it's what all pregnant women wear to feel more comfortable and wow…" Exotically she ran her hands up and down the garment, purring like one of the cats depicted on it. "…she really knows what she's talking about too because I love it! I want to rush right out and buy three more just like it."

"Please tell me you're kidding," Greg begged in a frantic tone while trying to decide what he would do if she said no and insisted on dressing in the same type of nightgown his grandma used to wear. For a man who had next to no limits when it came to creativity and open mindedness, Tawny had managed to find something that was a complete turn off...granny role play. Much to his surprise, Greg realized he did indeed have sexual boundaries.

"I'm just yanking your chain, Greggy." Cracking up, she tugged the garment over her head to reveal the fact she was wearing only her trademark CFMs, a red leather g-string and a necktie falling ever so nicely between _the twins_. "I bought the tie for you to wear. How do you like it?" She had purposely picked a conservative grey and red striped one that would have only looked right at a Republican senior-citizens convention.

"Uh…" While the verbal portion of his brain struggled, the visual area worked overtime. "It's uh…it's a little different than something I would normally wear but…"

"We're not going to be _watching_ that movie, Greg." In Pretty Woman, Vivian just sat at the table wearing the tie. In this homage, Tawny planned to kick it up a notch…feeling confident her take on the scene would be _superior_. Strutting over, she asked in a pouty tone, "Is the tie too conservative for you?"

"Not when you're wearing it with nothing under it!" He gushed with the excitement of a school boy catching a glimpse of his first boob.

"Were you hoping for something…" Taking the tie in her hands, she stroked it. "...a little more _wild_?"

As the serotonin surged through his brain, he complacently stated, "Hey…if you want me to wear it out, I'll be more than happy to…"

"Who said anything about wearing it _out_, Baby?" With stripper flair she undid the knot of the tie and after running it around her neck and down her body, she growled, "I want you to wear it right here, right now."

Chomping at the bit, he happily cooperated. "Your command is my wish!" Grabbing the tie he proceeded to put it around his neck.

Reaching out, Tawny yanked the tie, snatching it back. "I was thinking it would look better around your wrists…if that's _okay_ with you?"

"_Okay_?" Greg gawked at the woman's mouth, the very place where her silly question had tumbled from only a second ago. "That's like rhetorical, right?" With zeal he tossed the movie to the floor, dove into bed and presented his wrists thinking _what guy wouldn't jump at the chance to be bossed around by his babe?_ Hell, the only thing missing to make it a perfect experience was a leather corset…not that he was complaining about the hand he was being dealt. "Did I forget to tell you what my middle name, Hojem, means in Norwegian? It means _one who is happy to be your submissive slave boy anytime_."

"Good to know." With a twinkle in her eye, Tawny straddled him and looped the stodgy tie around his right wrist, snuggly knotting it. "Was this one of your Becca Turnbull fantasies, Baby?" She inquired while lunging forward and threading the tie through the iron headboard while he watched from below. "Because all you have to do is ask and I'll make any one of those fantasies come true…and I _guarantee _you I'll be better than Becs."

"I'll make a detailed list as soon as my hands are free." Twitching with anticipation, Greg answered in a pleasurable chuckle, "As far as this being one of my Becca fantasies…are you kidding? At seventeen? Back then having Becca brush up against me while wearing her tennis whites was the epitome of kinky! This kind of thing would have caused me to stroke out just thinking about it." He laughed harder as she continued her handiwork. "Actually uh…even at the age of thirty, my brain is close to a pleasure-induced hemorrhage…but don't let that stop you, because when I die, I guarantee you I'll be dying a happy man."

"Well then, dead man…" Tawny graciously asked, "…any last requests? This is the only chance you get because after this…I'm the only one calling the shots."

"Yeah…just one request." Squirming beneath her he joked, "After all is said and I've been done, make sure you untie me and toss my dead body to the floor. Then you can strip the bed and wash the sheets. That way, my mother won't know how I died but, the guys at work will be able to figure it out real easy from the ligature marks and DNA analysis. They'll be able to pin it to you though, so feel free to use the twenty grand my mom gave me to head for the border and set you and my bambino up in Mexico. Gracias!

Shaking with laughter, which she knew pleased her man considering the circumstances, Tawny obliged. "I promise." Then she whispered in his ear, "I'll be back in two minutes with a Magic 8 Ball, whipped cream and a gallon of ice cream."

"Dairy and fortune telling…looks like I'm getting lactose lucky tonight!" And as he relaxed to enjoy the ride, wherever it may lead, Greg thanked heaven that some prayers…even if it took years…were answered.

**The Grissoms  
****9:25 p.m. **

Gil was sitting in his favorite overstuffed leather chair in the living room when Sara came strolling in with her hands behind her back.

"I called the lab and spoke with JoAnn. It's a quiet night and she's covering for you, so you've got an extra hour to relax before you have to go." Then, looking like the cat that ate the canary she announced, "_Time_ to open your last gift…the personal one."

Grinning at his wife he joked, "Were you waiting to see if I would play nice with my daddy before you gave it to me?"

"No…" Shaking her head, she eased onto his lap, presenting the small box wrapped in gold paper adorned with a burgundy bow. "But I'm very proud that you did."

"There were some pleasant moments," He confessed while slipping his arm around her waist. "And some bittersweet ones. I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have him around for all the other birthdays. You know, the first year after getting dumped by him on my birthday, my mom tried to make the occasion elaborate. It made it worse and I asked if we could please not celebrate it again."

"I can empathize." Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. "My first year in foster care, the foster mom tried to make my birthday special…it was only a couple of months after the incident. It's hard to feel special when you're in a strange house with a strange family and all the kids at school are making you feel like a freak because your mom killed your dad. A pretty cake and balloons didn't make much of a difference."

"I suppose not." Gently, he brushed the hair dangling over her face and said, "You know what my mom did instead of giving me a party from there on out?"

"What?"

Watching her eyes, he said, "She made me my favorite chicken casserole dinner."

"That I didn't know," Sara admitted while pondering the significance. "How odd that I found that cookbook in a box I had the urge to open in the garage and found her note that it was your favorite meal. Almost like she reached out from beyond and…"

"Is stretching coincidence into something spiritual a sign of pregnancy?"

Amusement flickered in her eyes. "I believe it is in some cultures…maybe Aboriginal? I'll have to check my source and get back to you." Handing over the box she suggested, "In the mean _time_ let's focus on this."

"You've done too much already, Sara."

"Just open the box and love me."

Her statement brought a smile to his face. "I'm doing the second part while the box is still closed." Freeing his arm from around his wife's waist he removed the wrapping and cracked open what he had correctly assumed was a watch box.

"It's a Tag Heuer chronograph watch with a scratch resistant sapphire crystal face. Water resistant to 200 meters and made of Titanium so it should hold up at work. Do you like it?" She curiously asked while seeing a clear answer in his expression.

"Yes, I do."

"Maybe you should put your glasses on."

He removed the watch from the box and pulled his glasses out of his pocket so he could see the details on the black face.

"Now that you have your glasses on, turn it over," She instructed while her smile grew.

"Ah…there's a method to your madness." When he turned it over, the words jumped from the back of the watch straight into his heart.

_Gil,  
__Every minute  
__our love  
__grows stronger.  
__Sara_

"I love it," He exhaled as his eyes shifted from the engraving to his loving wife's watery eyes. "I love you."

"Did you enjoy your birthday, Honey?"

"More than I ever thought I could. My first birthday kiss is still my favorite part." Clutching the watch he brought his lips to Sara's, thanking her in a delicate kiss for caring enough to make the day so special. "Do you feel it?" He tenderly asked when they parted. "A minute just passed."

**Greg's Apartment  
****10:55 p.m.**

While Tawny dried her hair in the bathroom and did her rather lengthy nightly beauty routine, Greg sat at the desk in the living room, writing in his significant other's Algebra notebook. When he heard her padding down the hall towards the living room he started writing frantically.

"Whatcha doin?" Tawny inquired as she approached the desk. Sitting at the desk in his Abercrombie blue polka-dot boxers with his damp hair mussed, he looked adorable.

Tucking the pen inside the appropriate page, Greg closed the notebook and stood. "I just finished jotting down my list of fantasies for you."

"Oh." Although she didn't mind him taking her up on the offer, she was a bit surprised how quickly he jumped to make the list. "I guess we better squeeze them in before I get huge. Unless Becca was pregnant in your fantasies."

"Definitely not." He laughed, "But she was in my mom's nightmares."

After a chuckle she confessed, "After the baby is born I probably won't be up for a lot of adventure right away."

"Nah, I think you'll be able to handle some of my fantasies even then." After a big yawn Greg kissed Tawny's cheek. "I know I said I was going to do some reading out here while you did your Algebra homework on the computer but, I think I better catch some Z's. Long day. Very tired. Thanks again for the fun." Without looking back he disappeared down the hall. "Night."

"Um…okay…good night." Greg's ho-hum behavior after just having so much fun, not to mention his lack of an _I love you_ before heading to bed on this first special day of saying _I love you_, got Tawny down. Plopping into the office chair feeling blue, she eyed the notebook wondering exactly how much he intended to take advantage of her generous offer. Curiosity getting the best of her, she flipped open the page he had marked with a pen. When she saw what he had written, her face exploded into a smile.

_**The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - **_**_Summer 1992 Edition:_**

_Kiss a girl  
__Get kissed by a girl  
__Lose my virginity_

_(The 1st two were fulfilled in 1993 and the 3rd in 1997 – I know you can do the math.)_

_**The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - **_**_Summer 2005 Edition:_**

_Meet the woman of my dreams  
__Fall crazy in love  
__Say 'I love you' to the woman of my dreams  
__Hear the woman of my dreams say 'I love you too'  
__Make love with the woman of my dreams  
__Have the hottest sex of my life  
__Get a bigger place to live in with the woman of my dreams  
__Bring the woman of my dreams to my parents' home in California  
__Steal and destroy my mother's photo album_

**_Tawny, thank you for making my fantasies realities.  
_****_I only have the last three to complete and there's still time.  
_****_Much better track record than the summer of '92, don't you think!_**

_**The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - **_**_Future Edition:_**

_Beat Tawny at Boggle  
__Beat Grissom at poker  
__Get engaged  
__Get married  
__Become a dad  
__Be a great dad  
__Buy a hamster for my kid  
__Get a really nice house for my family  
__Have a second baby with my wife ( if it's okay with her)__  
Take Grissom's job when he retires (and be even better at it than him)  
__Continue having hot sex and making love with my wife until the day I die  
__Never stop being quirky and funny no matter how tough my job or life gets  
__Live every day to its fullest  
__Live happily ever after with my wife  
__(I'm sure I'll add more, but I think this is a good start)_

**_I honestly have no idea when any of these things will happen but…  
_****_I can't imagine enjoying any of them without you in my life.  
_**_**I love you, Tawny. **_

**_Greg Sanders, Chemist-CSI-Visionary_**

With tears fueled by a powerful combination of pregnancy hormones and love slipping down her cheeks, Tawny clutched the notebook and hurried for the bedroom. But when she arrived, she found the man of her dreams sound asleep, snuggled between the fresh sheets and the down comforter.

Tiptoeing over to the bed, she placed a tender kiss on his lips. "Sweet dreams, Greg. I know I'll be having plenty of my own tonight." As she left the room, she heard Bev Sanders's advice echo in her head…

_Greg doesn't respond well to direct heavy-handed pressure. He does best when he's supported and given a chance to get comfortable with something at his own pace. The good news is, once he arrives at a decision, he throws himself in with two feet and when he's passionate about something, he digs his hooks in and hangs on for dear life._

Returning to the computer, Tawny took a deep breath and reminded herself to follow Bev's advice and not pressure Greg for a ring or a promise. Glancing over at the notebook she smiled. The fantasy list was his roundabout way of saying _I need some time before moving any further so please don't pressure me. But, I also didn't want you to worry because when the time is right, it's going to be you_.

**August 18, 2005 (Day 118)  
****Paris Hotel  
****Room 714  
****12:01 a.m. **

Twined under the sheets, Carrie and Nick, with their hair still damp from their shower, continued to bask in the afterglow of their passionate night when the clock on the nightstand reflected the start of a new day.

"It's officially your birthday." Carrie marked the occasion with a tender kiss followed with a smile. "Happy Birthday, Nicky."

"Thank you. I can't imagine a better way to spend my birthday than with my fiancée." He sighed with pleasure as he drank in the love in her eyes. "I take that back…yes I can."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes narrowed. "Explanation please."

"Relax, Darlin' and let me finish." He raced his fingers through her hair and grinned. "I think it will be even better next year when I'm spending it with my wife. And in the future, I'm looking forward to spending it with my wife and kids. I can see it in my head…it's ten years from now and I'm having the best birthday."

"Now there's the stuff pleasant dreams are made of," She whimsically remarked before being overcome by a yawn. "Describe what you see."

Turning her so they could spoon, he shared his vision in a whisper in her ear. "All of us are at the dining room table…you, me, our two sons and our two daughters. The littlest one, a girl, is on my lap and you're lighting the candles on the homemade chocolate cake the kids helped you bake…it's a mess but I know it's going to be the sweetest cake I've ever tasted. Then y'all break into Happy Birthday. You're horribly off key but it's the most beautiful music I've ever heard. You ask me to make a wish but I'm having a hard time coming up with anything because I've got everything I need right in that room…which prompts me to wish for life to continue just the way it is. And while you slice the cake, the kids hand me homemade cards and tackle me saying _I love Daddy_. And when their arms are choking me, I look over at you and see the same beautiful girl I fell in love with ten years earlier and I fall in love with her all over again. How does that sound, Darlin'?"

"Hmm…I'm not sure, what's the second option?" She teased while glancing over her shoulder.

Pecking her lips, he replied, "The cake has _vanilla _frosting instead of chocolate."

"Oooh, then I'll have to pick the first one."

"I'm sensing a pattern." Once again he captured her lips, this time imparting a good night kiss.

"Sweet dreams, Birthday Boy."

"Absolutely."

* * *

The story continues in: Bluffs, Encounters and Calls - the 6th installment in the Feasbility Study series. It will post on 4/29 under a higherM rating and therefore not show up under "Just In". 

Chapters 3,4, 5 & 7 will be edited to fit the standards of this website (no song lyrics) and consequently be missing some content/meaning). The full versions will be available on my website by going to my author profile and clicking on the homepage link.

This will be first time chapters _3 and up _will be posted on this website.

Thanks,

Maggs


End file.
